,'1 


WE    MAKES    FOUR    TRIPS      BACK    AND     FORTH     BETWEEN     WOLFVILLE     AND  RED     DOG, 

CRACKIN'  OFF  OUR  GOOD  OLD  '45's  AT  IRREG'LAR  INTERVALS,  FARO  NELL  ON 

HER   CALICO   PONY   AS  THE   GODDESS  OF   LIBERTY,   BUSTIN*   AWAY  WITH  THE 

REST.  Frontispiece,     p.  170. 


FARO  NELL 
AND  HER  FRIENDS 

WOLFVILLE  STORIES 


BY 

ALFRED    HENRY   LEWIS 

AUTHOR  OF  "WOLFVILLE,"  "WOLFVILLE  DAYS,"  "WOLFVILLE  NIGHTS,"  "WOLFVELiE 

FOLKS,"  "THE  BOSS,"  "THE  SUNSET  TRAIL,"  "THE  APACHES  OF 
NEW  YORK,"  "THE  STORY  OF  PAUL  JONES,"  ETC. 


ILLUSTRATIONS      BY 

W.  HERBERT  DUNTON  AND 
J.  N.  MARCHAND 


G.  W.  DILLINGHAM    COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS  NEW  YORK 


COPYRIGHT,  1913,  BT 
G.  W.  DILLINGHAM  COMPANY 


F«ro  Nell  and  Her  Friend* 


THIS  BOOK 
IS  DEDICATED  TO 

WILLIAM  EUGENE  LEWIS 

AS  MARKING 

MY  APPRECIATION  OF 

WHAT  QUALITIES  PLACE  HIM  HIGH 

AMONG  THE  BEST  EDITORS 

BEST  BROTHERS  AND  BEST  MEN 

I'VE  EVER  MET 

A.  H.  L. 


CONTENTS 

VAOV 

HAPTEB 

I.  DEAD-SHOT  BAKER         •         •                   -7 

II.  OLD  MAN  ENRIGHT'S  UNCLE       .         •       &9 

III.  CYNTHIANA,  PET-NAMED  ORIGINAL  SIN       61 

IV.  OLD  MONTE,  OFFICIAL  DRUNKARD       .       99 

V.  How  THE  MOCKING  BIRD  WAS  WON   .     126 

VI.  THAT  WOLFVILLE-RED  DOG  FOURTH   .     148 

VII.  PROPRIETY  PRATT,  HYPNOTIST    .         .     176 

VIII.  THAT  TURNER  PERSON       .         .         .198 

IX.     RED  MIKE 225 

X.  How  TUTT  SHOT  TEXAS  THOMPSON    .     260 

XI.  THE  FUNERAL  OF  OLD  HOLT      .         .     295 

XII.  SPELLING  BOOK  BEN  .                           .     320 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


We  makes  four  trips  back  and  forth  between  Wolf  ville  and 
Red  Dog,  crackin'  off  our  good  old  '45  's  at  irreg'lar  in 
tervals,  Faro  Nell  on  her  calico  pony  as  the  Goddess  of 
Liberty,  bustin'  away  with  the  rest.  .  .  .Frontispiece  170 

We're  all  discussin'  the  doin's  of  this  yere  road-agent  when  Dan 
gets  back  from  Red  Dog,  an'  the  result  is  he  unloads  his 
findin's  on  a  dead  kyard  ..........  18 

Dead  Shot  stops  short  at  this  hitch  in  the  discussion,  by  reason 
of  a  bullet  from  the  Lightin'  Bug's  pistol  which  lodges  in 
his  lung  ..............  29 

The  second  evening  Old  Stallins  is  with  us,  Dan  Boggs  an* 
Texas  Thompson  uplifts  his  aged  sperits  with  the  "Love 
Dance  of  the  Catamounts."  .........  43 

"It's  you,  Oscar,  that  I  want,"  observes  Miss  Bark.  "I  con- 
cloodes,  upon  sober  second  thought,  to  accept  your  offer 
of  marriage."  .............  93 

A  couple  of  Enright's  Riders  comes  a  packin'  a  live  bob-cat 

into  town      ...      ...........     118 

Turkey  Track,  seem'  he's  afoot  an'  thirty  miles  from  his  home 
ranch,  pulls  his  gun  an'  sticks  up  the  mockin'  bird's  buck- 
board  ...............  138 

We  sees  the  Turner  person  aboard  an*  wishes  him  all  kinds  of 

luck       ...............       222 

"What's  the  subject?"  Peets  asks.  "That,  my  friend,  is  the 
*  Linden  in  October,'"  returns  Mike,  as  though  he's  a 
showin'  us  a  picture  of  Heaven's  front  gate  ....  238 

'Him  an'  Annalinda  shore  do  constitoote  a  picture.  'Thar's 
a  pa'r  to  draw  to,'  says  Nell  to  Texas,  her  eyes  like  brown 
diamonds"  ..............  281 

Thar's  a  bombardment  which  sounds  like  a  battery  of  gatlings, 

the  whole  punctchooated  by  a  whirlwind  of  "whoops"!  .     317 

"Onless  girls  is  barred,"  declares  Faro  Nell,  from  her  perch 

on  the  chair,  "  I've  a  notion  to  take  a  hand  "     ....     337 


FARO  NELL  AND  HER 
FRIENDS 


DEAD  SHOT  BAKER 

"Which  you  never  knows  Dead  Shot 
Baker?" 

This,  from  the  old  cattleman,  with  a  ques 
tioning  glance  my  way. 

"No?  Well,  you  shore  misses  knowin'  a 
man!  Still,  it  ain't  none  so  strange  neither; 
even  Wolfville's  acquaintance  with  Dead 
Shot's  only  what  you-all  might  call  casyooal, 
him  not  personally  lastin'  more'n  three  months. 

"This  yere  Dead  Shot  has  a  wife.  Thar's 
women  you  don't  want  to  see  ontil  you're  tired, 
an'  women  you  don't  want  to  see  ontil  you're 
rested,  an'  women  you  don't  want  to  see  no 
how — don't  want  to  see  at  all.  This  wife  of 
Dead  Shot's  belongs  with  the  latter  bunch. 

"Last  evenin'  I'm  readin'  whar  one  of  them 
7 


Fare  .Nell  and  Her  Friends 


philosophic  sports  asserts  that  women,  that 
a-way,  is  shore  the  sublimation  of  the  oncer- 
tain.  That's  how  he  lays  it  down;  an'  he  never 
hedges  the  bluff  for  so  much  as  a  single  chip. 
He  insists  that  you  can't  put  a  bet  on  women; 
that  you  can  bet  on  hosses  or  kyards  or  lec 
tions,  but  not  on  women  —  women  bein'  too 
plumb  oncertain.  As  I  reads  along,  I  can't 
he'p  feelin'  that  somehow  this  philosophic 
party  must  have  knowed  Dead  Shot's  wife. 

"The  first  time  we-all  ever  sees  Dead  Shot, 
he  comes  trackin'  into  the  Red  Light  one  eve- 
nin'  jest  after  the  stage  rolls  up.  Bein'  it's 
encroachin'  on  second  drink  time,  he  sidles  up 
to  the  bar  ;  an'  then,  his  manner  some  diffident 
an'  apol'getic,  he  says: 

'  'Gents,  do  you-all  feel  like  a  little  licker, 
that  a-way?' 

"It  bein'  imp  'lite  to  reef  use,  we  assembles 
within  strikin'  distance  of  the  bottles  Black 
Jack  is  slammin'  the  len'th  of  the  counter,  an' 
begins  spillin'  out  our  forty  drops.  At  this  he 
turns  even  more  apol'getic. 

'Which  I  trusts,'  he  says,  'that  no  one'll 
mind  much  if  I  takes  water?' 

"Of  course  no  one  minds.    Wolfville  don't 


Dead  Shot  Baker  9 

make  no  speshulty  of  forcin'  whiskey  onto  no 
gent  who's  disinclined.  If  they  prefers  water, 
we  encourages  'em. 

"  'An'  for  this  yere  reason,'  expounds 
Boggs,  once  when  he  ondertakes  to  explain  the 
public  attitoode  towards  water  to  some  inquir- 
in'  tenderfoot — 'an'  for  this  partic'lar  reason: 
Arizona  is  a  dry  an'  arid  clime;  an'  water 
drinkers  bein'  a  cur'ous  rarity,  we  admires  to 
keep  a  spec'men  or  two  buck-jumpin'  about, 
so's  to  study  their  habits.' 

"As  we  picks  up  our  glasses,  Dead  Shot  sets 
to  introdoocin'  himse'f. 

'  'My  name,  gents,'  he  says,  'is  Baker,  Ab- 
ner  Baker.  The  Wells-Fargo  folks  sends  me 
down  yere  from  Santa  Fe  to  ride  shot-gun  for 
'em.' 

"The  name's  plenty  s'fficient.  It's  him  who 
goes  to  a  showdown  with  them  three  road 
agents  who  lays  for  the  stage  over  in  a  spur 
of  the  Black  Range  back  of  San  Martial,  an' 
hives  the  three.  That  battle  saves  the  com 
pany  $200,000;  an',  they're  that  pleased  with 
Dead  Shot's  industry,  they  skins  the  com 
pany's  bankroll  for  a  bundle  of  money  the  size 
of  a  roll  of  blankets,  an'  gives  it  to  him  by  way 


10          Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

of  reward.    It's  the  talk  of  the  two  territories. 

"While  we-all  knows  Dead  Shot  when  he 
speaks  his  name,  none  of  us  lets  on.  It's 
ag'inst  ettiquette  in  the  south-west  to  know 
more  of  a  gent  than  what  he  tells  himse'f . 

"  'So  water's  all  you  samples?'  puts  in  Texas 
Thompson,  as  we  stands  an'  drinks. 

"  'It's  like  this,'  explains  Dead  Shot,  ap- 
pealin'  round  with  his  eye.  'You  see  I  can't 
drink  nosepaint  none,  an'  drink  successful.' 

"  'Shore,'  observes  Faro  Nell,  who's  takin' 
her  diminyootive  toddy  right  at  Dead  Shot's 
elbow;  'thar's  gents  so  organized  that  to  go 
givin'  'em  licker  is  like  tryin'  to  play  a  harp 
with  a  hammer.' 

"'That's  me,'  exclaims  Dead  Shot;  'that's 
me,  Miss,  every  time.  Give  me  a  spoonful,  an' 
I  deemands  a  bar'l.  After  which,  thar  ain't  no 
se'f  respectin'  camp  that'll  stand  for  my  game.' 

"  'I  savvys  what  you  means,'  says  Tutt;  'I 
reecalls  in  my  own  case  how,  on  the  hocks  of 
mebby  it's  the  ninth  drink — which  this  is  years 
an'  years  ago,  though — I  mistakes  a  dem'crat 
primary  for  a  Methodist  praise  meetin',  an* 
comes  ramblin'  in  an'  offers  to  lead  in  pra'r. 
Which  I  carries  the  scars  to  this  day.' 


Dead  Shot  Baker H 

"  'Which  is  why,  Dave,'  inter jecks  Chero 
kee  Hall,  in  hopes  of  settin'  Tutt  to  pitchin' 
on  his  p'litical  rope,  him  bein'  by  nacher  a 
oncompromisin'  reepublican  that  a-way — 
'which  is  why  you  always  holds  dem'crats  so 
low.' 

"  'But  I  don't  hold  'em  low,'  protests  Tutt. 
'Thar's  heaps  to  be  said  for  dem'crats,  least 
wise  for  the  sort  that's  pesterin'  'round  in  the 
country  I  hails  from.' 

"  'What  be  your  dem'crats  like,  Dave?' 
Texas  urges.  'Which  I  wants  to  see  if  they're 
same  as  the  kind  I  cuts  the  trail  of  down  about 
Laredo.' 

"'Well,'  returns  Tutt,  'simply  hittin'  the 
high  places,  them  dem'crats  by  which  I'm  born 
surrounded  chews  tobacco,  sw'ars  profoosely, 
drinks  mighty  exhaustive,  hates  niggers,  an' 
some  of  'em  can  read.' 

'That  deescription  goes  for  Laredo,  too,' 
Texas  allows.  'This  yere  jedge,  who  gives  my 
wife  her  divorce  that  time,  an'  sets  the  sheriff 
to  sellin'  up  my  steers  for  costs  an'  al'mony, 
is  a  dem'crat.  What  you  says,  Dave,  is  the 
merest  picture  of  that  joorist.' 

'  'I  expects  my  wife'll  come  rackin'  along 


12  Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

poco  tiempo/  Dead  Shot  remarks,  after  a 
pause.  'I'm  yere  as  advance  gyard  to  sling 
things  into  shape.' 

"It's  as  good  as  a  toone  of  music  to  see  how 
softly  his  face  lights  up.  He's  as  big  an'  wide 
an'  thick  an'  strong  as  Boggs,  an'  yet  it's  plain 
as  paint  that  this  yere  wife  of  his,  whoever  she 
is,  can  jest  nacherally  make  curl-papers  of 
him. 

"That  mention  of  a  wife  as  usual  sets  Texas 
to  growlin'. 

"'Thar  you  be,  Dan!'  I  overhears  him 
whisper,  same  as  if  he's  been  ill-treated;  'the 
instant  this  Dead-Shot  says  "Water"  I'm  onto 
it  that  he's  a  married  man.  Water  an'  matri 
mony  goes  hand  in  hand.' 

'  'Now    I    don't    see   why    none?'    retorts 
Boggs. 

"  'Because  water's  weakenin'.  Feed  a  sport 
on  water,  an'  it's  a  cinch  he  falls  a  prey  to  the 
first  female  who  ropes  at  him.' 

'Thar's  Dave,'  Boggs  argyoos,  noddin' 
towards  Tutt.  'Ain't  he  drinkin'  that  time  he 
weds  Tucson  Jennie?' 

'  'Dave's  the  exception.     Also,  you-all  re 
members    them    circumstances,  Dan.     Dave 


Dead  Shot  Baker  13 

don't  marry  Jennie;  Jennie  simply  ups  an' 
has  him.' 

"  'All  the  same,'  contends  Boggs,  'I  don't 
regyard  Dead  Shot's  sobriety  as  no  draw 
back.  Thar's  lots  of  folks  who's  cap'ble  of 
bein'  sober  an'  sociable  at  one  an'  the  same 
time.' 

"These  yere  low-voiced  wranglin's  between 
Texas  an'  Boggs  is  off  to  one  side.  Mean 
while,  the  gen'ral  confab  proceeds. 

"  'You  ain't  been  long  hooked  up?'  says  Doc 
Peets,  addressin'  Dead  Shot. 

"  'About  a  year.  She's  in  the  stage  that 
time  I  has  the  trouble  with  them  hold-ups  in 
the  Black  Range,  an'  she  allows  she  likes  my 
style.' 

"  'We-all  hears  about  that  Black  Range 
battle,'  remarks  Enright. 

'  'It's  a  mighty  lucky  play  for  me,'  says 
Dead  Shot;  'I  don't  ree'lize  it  while  I'm  work- 
in'  my  Winchester,  but  I'm  winnin'  a  angel  all 
the  time.  That's  on  the  level,  gents !  I  never 
puts  my  arm  'round  her  yet,  but  what  I  go 
feelin'  for  wings.' 

'  'Don't  this  make  you  sick?'  Texas  growls 
to  Boggs. 


14  Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

'  'No,  it  don't,'  Boggs  replies.  'On  the  con 
trary,  I'm  teched.' 

'  'Gents,'  goes  on  Dead  Shot,  an'  I  sees  his 
mustache  tremble  that  a-way;  'I  don't  mind 
confessin'  she's  that  angelic  I'm  half  afraid  to 
marry  her.  I  ain't  fine  enough !  It's  like  wed- 
din'  gunny-sack  to  silk — me  makin'  her  my 
wife.  Which  I  shore  has  to  think  an'  argyoo 
with  myse'f  a  whole  lot,  before  I  gets  the 
courage.  Ain't  you-all  ever  noticed' — yere 
he  appeals  'round  to  Peets — 'that  every 
time  you  meets  up  with  a  angel,  thar's  al 
ways  some  smoke-begrimed  an'  sin-encrusted 
son  of  Satan  workin'  double-turn  to  support 
her?' 

"Peets  nods. 

"'Shore!  Well,  it's  sech  reflections  which 
final  gives  me  the  reequired  sand.  An'  so,  one 
evenin'  up  in  Albuquerque,  we  prances  over 
before  a  padre  an'  we're  married.  You  bet, 
it's  like  a  vision.' 

"'Any  papooses?'  asks  Tutt,  plumb  pom 
pous. 

"  'None  as  yet,'  confesses  Dead  Shot,  lookin' 
abashed. 

"  'Which  I've  nacherally  got  one,'  an'  yere 


Dead  Shot  Baker  15 

Tutt  swells.  'You  can  put  your  case  peso  on 
it  he's  the  real  thing,  too.' 

"  'Little  Enright  Peets  is  certainly  a  fine 
child,'  remarks  Nell.  'Dave,  you're  shore  li 
censed  to  be  proud  of  him.' 

"'That's  whatever,'  adds  Boggs.  'Little 
Enright  Peets  is  nothin'  short  of  bein'  the 
No'th  Star  of  all  hoomanity !' 

"Mebby  a  week  passes,  an'  one  mornin' 
Dead  Shot  goes  squanderin'  over  to  Tucson  to 
bring  his  wife.  An'  nacherally  we're  on  what 
they  calls  in  St.  Looey  the  'quee  vee'  to  see  her. 
At  that,  we-all  don't  crowd  'round  permiscus 
when  the  stage  arrives,  an'  we  avoids  every 
thing  which  borders  on  mob  voylence. 

"Dead  Shot  hits  the  street,  lookin'  that 
happy  it's  like  he's  in  a  dream,  an'  then  goes 
feelin'  about,  soft  an'  solic'tous,  inside.  At 
last  he  lifts  her  out,  an'  stands  thar  holdin'  her 
in  his  arms.  She's  shore  beautiful;  only  she 
ain't  no  bigger  'n  a  ten  year  old  youngone. 
fYellow-ha'red  an'  bloo-eyed,  she  makes  you 
think  of  these  yere  china  ornaments  that's  re- 
gyarded  artistic  by  the  Dutch. 

"They're  certainly  a  contrast — him  big  as  a 
house,  her  as  small  an'  pretty  as  a  doll!  An' 


16  Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

you  should  see  that  enamored  Dead  Shot  look 
at  her! — long  an'  deep,  like  a  man  drinkin'! 
Son,  sometimes  I  fears  women,  that  a-way, 
misses  all  knowledge  of  how  much  they're 
loved. 

"  'She  ain't  sick,'  says  Dead  Shot,  speakin* 
gen'ral;  'only  she  twists  her  off  ankle  gettin* 
out  at  the  last  station.' 

"Dead  Shot  heads  for  the  little  'dobe  he's 
fitted  up,  packin'  his  bloo-eyed  doll  in  his  arms. 
What's  our  impressions?  No  gent  who  signs 
the  books  as  sech'll  say  anything  ag'in  a  lady; 
but  between  us,  thar's  a  sooperior  wrinklin'  of 
the  little  tipped-up  nose,  an'  a  cold  feel  to 
them  bloo  eyes,  which  don't  leave  us  plumb 
enthoosiastic. 

"  'It's  like  this,'  volunteers  Enright,  who 
stacks  in  to  explain  things.  'Every  gent's  got 
his  ideal;  an'  this  yere  wife  of  his  is  Dead 
Shot's  ideal.' 

" 'Whatever's  an  ideal,  Doc?'  asks  Boggs, 
who's  always  romancin'  about  for  information. 

"  'Which  an  ideal,  Dan,'  Peets  replies,  'is 
the  partic'lar  gold  brick  you're  tryin'  to  buy.' 

"At  the  time  Dead  Shot's  standin'  thar  with 
his  fam'ly  in  his  arms,  Nell  comes  out  on 


Dead  Shot  Baker  17 

the  Red  Light  steps  to  take  a  peek.  Also, 
Missis  Rucker  an'  Tucson  Jennie  is  hoverin' 
about  all  sim'lar.  After  Dead  Shot  an'  his 
bride  has  faded  into  their  'dobe,  them  three  ex 
perts  holds  a  energetic  consultation  in  the 
street.  Of  course,  none  of  us  has  the  hardi 
hood  to  go  j'inin'  in  their  deelib'rations,  but 
from  what's  said  later  we  gets  a  slant  at  their 
concloosions. 

*  'Dead  Shot's  a  mighty  sight  too  good  for 
her,'  is  how  Missis  Rucker  gives  jedgment. 
4 It's  peltin'  pigs  with  pearls  for  him  to  go  lov- 
in'  her  like  he  does.' 

"Shore;  bein'  ladies  that-a-way,  Missis 
Rucker,  Tucson  Jennie  an'  Faro  Nell  all  visits 
Dead  Shot's  wife.  But  the  feelin'  is  that  they 
finds  her  some  stuck  up  an'  haughty.  This 
yere  notion  is  upheld  by  Nell  callin'  her  a 
'minx,'  while  Tucson  Jennie  alloodes  to  her 
as  a  'cat'  on  two  sep'rate  occasions. 

"Dead  Shot  an'  his  doll-bride,  in  the  begin- 
nin',  seems  to  be  gettin'  along  all  right.  It's 
only  when  thar's  money  goin'  over,  that  Dead 
Shot  has  to  buckle  on  his  guns  an'  ride  out 
with  the  stage.  This  gives  him  lots  of  time 
to  hang  'round,  an'  worship  her.  Which 


18  Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

I'm  yere  to  reemark  that  if  ever  a  white 
man  sets  up  an  idol,  that  a-way,  an'  says 
his  pra'rs  to  it,  that  gent's  Dead  Shot.  Thar's 
nothin'  to  it;  prick  her  finger,  an'  you  pierce 
his  heart. 

"  'It'd  be  beautiful  if  it  wasn't  awful,'  says 
Faro  Nell. 

"It  ain't  a  month  when  events  lifts  up  their 
p'isin  heads,  which  goes  to  jestify  them  com 
ments  of  Nell's.  Thar's  been  a  White  House 
shift  back  in  Washington,  an'  a  new  postmas 
ter's  sent  out.  He's  a  dapper  party,  with  what 
Peets  calls  a  'Van  Dyke'  beard,  an'  smells  like 
a  ha'r-dresser's  shop. 

"Now  if  affairs  stops  thar,  we  could  have 
stood  it ;  but  they  don't.  I  abhors  to  say  so,  but 
it  ain't  two  weeks  before  Dead  Shot's  wife's 
makin'  onmistak'ble  eyes  at  that  postmaster. 
Them  times  when  Dead  Shot's  dooties  has  took 
him  to  the  other  end  of  the  trail,  she's  over  to 
the  post  office  constant.  None  of  us  says  any 
thing,  not  even  to  ourselves ;  but  when  it  gets 
to  whar  she  shoves  you  away  from  the  letter 
place,  an'  begins  talkin'  milk  and  honey  to  him 
right  under  your  nose,  onless  you're  as  blind  as 
steeple  bats,  an'  as  deaf  as  the  adder  of  scrip- 


m 


S3 


t3    0 
£§ 

S  a 


Dead  Shot  Baker 19 

toore  which  stoppeth  her  y'ear,  you're  shore 
bound  to  do  some  thinkin'. 

"  'Which  if  ever  a  gov'ment  offishul,'  ex 
claims  Texas,  as  he  comes  t'arin'  into  the  Red 
Light  one  evenin',  deemandin'  drinks — 'which 
if  ever  a  gov'ment  offishul  goes  organizin'  his 
own  fooneral  that  a-way,  it's  this  yere  dee- 
boshed  postmaster  next  door!' 

"Thar's  no  thin'  said,  but  we-all  knows 
what's  on  Texas's  mind.  That  wife  of  Dead 
Shot's,  for  the  fo'th  time  that  day,  has  gone 
askin'  for  letters. 

"  'She  writes  'em  to  herse'f,'  is  the  way 
Missis  Rucker  lays  it  down.  'Also,  it's  doo  to 
the  crim'nal  besottedness  of  that  egreegious 
Dead  Shot.  The  man's  shorely  love-blind!' 

'You  ain't  goin'  to  far  into  him  for  that, 
be  you?'  Nell  asks,  her  tones  reproach 
ful.  'Him  lovin'  her  like  he  does  shore  makes 
a  hit  with  me.  A  limit  goes  in  farobank;  but 
my  notion  is  to  take  the  bridle  off  when  the 
game's  love.' 

'  'But  all  the  same  he  needn't  get  that  lovin' 
it  addles  him,'  says  Missis  Rucker.  'In  a  way, 
it's  Dead  Shot's  sole  fault,  her  actin'  like  she 
does.  Instead  of  keepin'  them  Mexicans  to  do 


20  Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

her  work,  Dead  Shot  ought  to  make  her  go 
surgin'  round,  an'  care  for  her  house  herse'f . 
Thar  ain't  nobody  needs  steady  employment 
more'n  a  woman.  You-all  savvys  where  it 
says  that  Satan  finds  some  mischief  still  for 
idle  hands  to  do?  Which  you  bet  that 
bluff  means  women — an'  postmasters — every 
time.' 

"Missis  Rucker  continues  along  sim'lar  lines, 
mighty  inflexible,  for  quite  a  spell.  She  con- 
cloodes  by  sayin': 

"  'You  keep  a  woman  walsin'  round  a  cook- 
stove,  or  wrastlin'  a  washtub,  or  jugglin'  pots 
an'  skillets,  same  as  them  sleight-of-hand  folks 
at  the  Bird  Cage  Op'ry  House,  an'  she  won't 
be  so  free  to  primp  an'  preen  an'  look  at  her 
se'f  in  the  glass,  an'  go  gaddin'  after  letters 
which  she  herse'f's  done  writ.' 

"We-all  can't  he'p  hearin'  this  yere,  seein' 
we're  settin'  round  the  O.  K.  dinin'  table  feed- 
in'  at  the  time ;  but  we  stubbornly  ref ooses  to 
be  drawed  into  any  views,  Enright  settin'  us 
the  example.  That  sagacious  old  warchief 
merely  reaches  for  the  salthoss,  an'  never 
yeeps ;  wharupon  we  maintains  ourselves  stoo- 
diously  yeepless  likewise. 


Dead  Shot  Baker 21 

"Things  goes  on  swingin'  an'  rattlin',  an' 
the  open-air  flirtations  which  Dead  Shot's  wife 
keeps  up  with  that  outcast  of  a  postmaster's 
enough  to  give  you  a  chill.  We  sets  thar, 
powerless,  expectin'  a  killin'  every  minute. 
An'  all  the  time,  like  his  eyes  has  took  a  lay 
off,  Dead  Shot  wanders  to  an'  fro,  boastin'  an' 
braggin'  in  the  mushiest  way  about  his  wife. 
Moreover — an'  this  trenches  on  eediotcy — he 
goes  out  of  his  path  to  make  a  pard  of  the 
postmaster,  an'  has  that  deebauchee  over  to  his 
shack  evenin's. 

"Dead  Shot  even  begins  publicly  singin'  the 
praises  of  this  office  holder. 

"  *  Which  it's  this  a-way,'  he  says;  'what  with 
him  bein'  book-read  an'  a  sport  who's  seen  for 
eign  lands,  he's  company  for  my  wife.  She 
herse'f's  eddicated  to  a  feather-edge;  an', 
nacherally,  that's  what  gives  'em  so  much  in 
common.' 

"Thar's  all  the  same  a  note  in  Dead  Shot's 
voice  that's  like  the  echo  of  a  groan.  It  looks, 
too,  as  though  it  sets  fire  to  Texas,  who  jumps 
up  as  if  he's  stung  by  a  trant'ler. 

*  'Come,'  he  says,  grabbin'  Boggs  by  the 
shoulder. 


22  Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

"Texas  has  Boggs  drug  half-way  to  the 
door,  before  Enright  can  head  'em  off. 

"  'Whar  to?'  demands  Enright;  an'  then 
adds,  'don't  you-all  boys  go  nigh  that  post  of 
fice.' 

*  'All  right,'  says  Texas  final,  but  gulpin'  a 
little;  'since  it's  you  who  says  so,  Sam,  we 
won't.  Me  an'  Dan  yere'll  merely  take  a  little 
passear  as  far  as  the  graveyard,  by  way  of  ree- 
coverin'  our  sperits  an'  to  get  the  air.  I'll 
shore  blow  up  if  obleeged  to  listen  to  that 
Dead  Shot  any  longer.' 

'  'I  sees  it  in  his  eye,'  Enright  explains  in  a 
low  tone  to  Peets,  as  he  resoomes  his  cha'r; 
'Texas  is  simply  goin'  to  bend  his  gun  over 
that  letter  man's  head.' 

'  'How  often  has  I  told  you,  Dan,'  asks 
Texas,  after  they  gets  headed  for  Boot  Hill, 
an'  Texas  has  regained  his  aplomb,  'that  wom 
en  is  a  brace  game?' 

''Not  all  women,'  Boggs  objects;  'thar's 
Nell.' 

"'Shore;  Nell!'  Texas  consents.  'Sech  as 
her  has  all  of  the  honor  an'  honesty  of  a  Colt's- 
45.  A  gent  can  rely  on  the  Nellie  brand,  same 
as  he  can  on  his  guns.  But  Nellie's  one  in  one 


Dead  Shot  Baker  23 

thousand.  Them  other  nine  hundred  an' 
ninety-nine  '11  deal  you  the  odd-kyard,  Dan, 
every  time.' 

"When  Texas  an'  Boggs  arrives  at  Boot 
Hill,  Texas  goes  seelectin'  about,  same  as  if 
he's  searchin'  out  a  site  for  a  grave.  At  last 
he  finds  a  place  whar  thar's  nothin'  but  mes- 
quite,  soapweed  an'  rocks,  it's  that  ornery: 

"  ' Yere's  whar  we  plants  him,'  says  Texas ; 
'off  yere,  by  himse'f ,  like  as  if  he's  so  much  car 
rion.' 

"  'Who  you  talkin'  about?'  asks  Boggs, 
some  amazed. 

"  'Who?'  repeats  Texas;  'whoever  but  that 
postmaster?  Dead  Shot's  got  to  get  him  soon 
or  late.  An'  followin'  the  obsequies,  thar  ain't 
goin'  to  be  no  night  gyards  neither.  Which  if 
them  coyotes  wants  to  dig  him  up,  they're  wel 
come.  It's  their  lookout,  not  mine ;  an'  I  ain't 
got  no  love  for  coyotes  no  how.' 

'Thar  ain't  no  coyote  in  Cochise  County 
who's  sunk  that  low  he'll  eat  him,'  says  Boggs. 

"Like  every  other  outfit,  Wolfville  sees  its 
hours  of  sunshine  an'  its  hours  of  gloom,  its 
lights  an'  its  shadders.  But  I'm  yere  to  state 
that  it  never  suffers  through  no  more  nerve- 


24  Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

rackin'  eepock  than  that  which  it  puts  in  about 
Dead  Shot  an'  his  wife.  She  don't  bother  us 
so  much  as  him.  It's  Dead  Shot  himse'f, 
praisin'  up  the  postmaster  an'  paintin'  the  sun- 
kissed  virchoose  of  his  wife,  which  keeps  the 
sweat  a-pourin'  down  the  commoonal  face. 
An'  all  that's  left  us  is  to  stand  pat,  an'  wait 
for  the  finish! 

"One  day  the  Wells-Far  go  people  sends 
Dead  Shot  to  Santa  Fe  to  take  a  money  box 
over  to  Taos.  Two  days  later,  Dead  Shot's 
wife  finds  she's  got  to  go  visit  Tucson.  Like 
wise,  the  postmaster  allows  he's  been  ordered 
to  Wilcox,  to  straighten  out  some  deepart- 
mental  kinks.  Which  we  certainly  sets  thar 
an'  looks  at  each  other! — the  play's  that  rank. 

"The  postmaster  an'  Dead  Shot's  wife  goes 
rumblin'  out  on  the  same  stage.  Monte  starts 
to  tell  us  what  happens  when  he  returns,  but 
the  old  profligate  don't  get  far. 

"  'Gents,'  he  says,  'that  last  trip,  when  Dead 
Shot's ' 

"  'Shet  up,'  roars  Enright,  an'  Monte  shore 
shets  up. 

"It  comes  plenty  close  to  killin'  the  mis'rable 
old  dipsomaniac  at  that.  He  swells  an'  he 


Dead  Shot  Baker  25 

swells,  with  that  pent-up  information  inside  of 
him,  ontil  he  looks  like  a  dissipated  toad.  But 
sech  is  his  awe  of  Enright,  he  never  dar's 
opens  his  clamshell. 

"It's  a  week  before  Dead  Shot's  wife  gets 
back,  an'  the  postmaster  don't  show  up  till 
four  days  more.  Then  Dead  Shot  himse'f 
comes  trackin'  in. 

"Faro  Nell,  who's  eyes  is  plumb  keen  that 
a-way,  lets  on  to  Cherokee  private  that  Dead 
Shot  looks  sorrow-ridden.  But  I  don't 
know!  Dead  Shot's  nacherally  grave,  havin' 
no  humor.  A  gent  who  constant  goes  messin' 
round  with  road  agents,  shootin'  an'  bein' 
shot  at,  ain't  apt  to  effervesce.  Nell  sticks 
to  it,  jest  the  same,  that  he's  onder  a 
cloud. 

"Dead  Shot  continyoos  to  play  his  old  sys 
tem,  an'  cavorts  'round  plumb  friendly  with 
the  postmaster,  an'  goes  teeterin'  yere  an'  thar 
tellin'  what  a  boon  from  heaven  on  high  his 
wife  is,  same  as  former. 

"Faro  Nell  shakes  her  head  when  Cherokee 
mentions  this  last: 

"  'That's  his  throw-off,'  she  says. 

"One  evenin'  Dead  Shot  comes  trailin'  into 


26  Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

the  Red  Light,  an'  strolls  over  to  whar  Cher 
okee's  dealin'  bank. 

"  'What's  the  limit?'  he  asks. 

"At  this,  we-all  looks  up  a  whole  lot.  It's 
the  first  time  ever  Dead  Shot  talks  of  puttin' 
down  a  bet. 

"Cherokee's  face  is  like  a  mask,  the  face  of 
the  thorough-paced  kyard  sharp.  He  shows 
no  more  astonishment  than  if  Dead  Shot's 
been  settin'  in  ag'inst  his  game  every  evenin' 
for  a  month. 

"  'One  hundred  an'  two  hundred,'  says 
Cherokee. 

"  'Bueno!'  an'  Dead  Shot  lays  down  two 
one-hundred  dollar  bills  between  the  king  and 
queen. 

"Thar's  two  turns.  The  third  the  kyards 
falls  'ten-king,'  an'  Nell,  from  her  place  on 
the  lookout's  stool,  shoves  over  two  hundred 
dollars  in  bloo  checks.  Thar  they  are,  with  the 
two  one-hundred  dollar  bills,  between  the  king 
an'  queen. 

"  'Does  it  go  as  it  lays?'  asks  Dead  Shot,  it 
bein'  double  the  limit. 

"  'It  goes,'  says  Cherokee,  never  movin'  a 
muscle. 


Dead  Shot  Baker 27 

"One  turn,  an'  the  kyards  falls  'trey-queen.' 
Nell  shoves  four  hundred  across  to  match  up 
with  Dead  Shot's  four  hundred. 

"  'An'  now?'  Dead  Shot  asks. 

"  'I'll  turn  for  it,'  Cherokee  responds. 

"It's  yere  that  Dead  Shot's  luck  goes  back 
on  him.  The  turn  comes  'queen- jack,'  an' 
Nell  rakes  down  the  eight  hundred. 

"Dead  Shot's  hand  goes  to  the  butt  of  his 
gun. 

"  'I've  been  robbed,'  he  growls ;  'thar's  fifty- 
three  kyards  in  that  deck.' 

"Cherokee's  on  his  feet,  his  eyes  like  two 
steel  p'ints,  gun  half  drawed.  But  Nell's  as 
quick.  Her  hand's  on  Cherokee's,  an'  she 
keeps  his  gun  whar  it  belongs. 

"  'Steady!'  she  says;  'can't  you  see  he's  only 
coaxin'  you  to  bump  him  off?'  Then,  with  her 
face  full  on  Dead  Shot,  she  continyoos:  'It 
won't  do,  Dead  Shot;  it  won't  do  none!  You- 
all  can't  get  it  handed  to  you  yere!  You're  in 
the  wrong  shop;  you-all  ought  to  try  next 
door!'  An'  Nell  p'ints  with  her  little  thumb 
through  the  wall  to  the  post  office. 

"Dead  Shot  stands  thar  the  color  of  seegyar 
ashes,  while  Cherokee  settles  ca'mly  back  in  his 


28  Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

cha'r.  Cherokee's  face  is  as  bar'  of  expression 
as  a  blank  piece  of  paper,  as  he  runs  his  eye 
along  the  lay-out,  makin'  ready  for  the  next 
turn.  Thar's  mebby  a  dozen  of  us  playin',  but 
not  a  word  is  spoke.  Everyone  is  onto  Dead 
Shot's  little  game,  the  moment  Nell  begins  to 
talk. 

"Matters  seems  to  hang  on  centers,  ontil 
Nell  stretches  across  an'  lays  her  baby  hand  on 
Dead  Shot's: 

"  'Thar  ain't  a  soul  in  sight,'  she  says, 
mighty  soft  an'  good,  'but  what's  your  friend, 
Dead  Shot.' 

"Dead  Shot,  pale  as  a  candle,  wheels  toward 
the  door. 

"Tore  Dead  Shot!'  murmurs  Nell,  the 
tears  in  her  eyes,  to  that  extent  she  has  to 
ask  Boggs  to  take  her  place  as  look-out. 

"Four  hours  goes  by,  an'  thar's  the  poundin' 
of  a  pony's  hoofs,  an'  the  creak  of  saddle- 
leathers,  out  in  front.  It's  the  Red  Dog  chief, 
who's  come  lookin'  for  Enright. 

"They  confabs  a  minute  or  two  at  a  table 
to  the  r'ar,  an'  then  Enright  calls  Peets  over. 

"'Dead  Shot's  gone  an'  got  himse'f 
downed,'  he  says. 


DEAD  SHOT  STOPS  SHORT  AT  THIS  HITCH  IN  THE  DISCUSSION,   BY  REASON  OP  A  BUL 
LET  FROM  THE  LIGHTIN'  BUG'S  PISTOL  WHICH  LODGES  IN  HIS  LUNG.   p.  29. 


Dead  Shot  Baker  29 

"  'It's  on  the  squar'  gents/  explains  the  Red 
Dog  chief;  'Dead  Shot '11  say  so  himself.  He 
jest  nacherally  comes  htmtin'  it.' 

"It  looks  like  Dead  Shot,  after  that  failure 
with  Cherokee  in  the  Red  Light,  p'ints  across 
for  Red  Dog.  He  searches  out  a  party  who's 
called  the  Lightnin'  Bug,  on  account  of  the 
spontaneous  character  of  his  six-shooter. 
Dead  Shot  finds  the  Lightnin'  Bug  talkin' 
with  two  fellow  gents.  He  listens  awhile,  an' 
then  takes  charge  of  the  conversation. 

6  'Bug,'  he  says,  raisin'  his  voice  like  it's  a 
challenge — 'Bug,  only  I'm  afraid  folks'll 
string  you  up  a  whole  lot,  I'd  say  it's  you  who 
stood  up  the  stage  last  week  in  Apache  Can 
yon.  Also' — an'  yere  Dead  Shot  takes  to 
gropin'  about  in  his  jeans,  same  as  if  he's  feel- 
in'  for  a  knife — 'it's  mighty  customary  with* 
me,  on  occasions  sech  as  this,  to  cut  off  the 
y'ears  of 

"Dead  Shot  stops  short,  by  reason  of  a  bul 
let  from  the  Bug's  pistol  which  lodges  in  his 
lungs. 

"When  Peets  an'  Enright  finds  him,  he's 
spread  out  on  the  Red  Dog  chief's  blankets, 
coughin'  blood,  with  the  sorrow-stricken  Bug 


30          Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

proppin'  him  up  one  moment  to  drink  water, 
an*  sheddin'  tears  over  him  the  next,  alternate. 

"The  Red  Dog  chief  leads  out  the  weepin' 
Bug,  who's  lamentin'  mighty  grievous,  an' 
leaves  Enright  an'  Peets  with  Dead  Shot. 

"  'It's  all  right,  gents,'  whispers  Dead  Shot; 
'I  comes  lookin'  for  it,  an'  I  gets  it.  Likewise, 
she  ain't  to  blame ;  it's  me.  I  oughtn't  to  have 
married  her  that  time — she  only  a  girl,  an'  me 
a  full-growed  man  who  should  'av  had  sense 
for  both.' 

"  'That's  no  lie,'  says  Peets,  an'  Dead  Shot 
gives  him  a  grateful  look. 

"  'No,'  he  goes  on,  'she's  too  fine,  too  high — 
I  wasn't  her  breed.  An'  I  ought  to  have  seen 
it.'  Yere  he  has  a  tussle  to  hang  on. 

"Peets  pours  him  out  some  whiskey. 

"'It's  licker,  ain't  it?'  Dead  Shot  gasps, 
sniffin'  the  glass.  'I'm  for  water,  Doc,  licker 
makin'  me  that  ornery.' 

"  'Down  with  it,'  urges  Peets.  'Which,  if 
I'm  a  jedge,  you'll  pack  in  long  before  you're 
due  to  start  anything  extra  serious,  even  if 
you  drinkt  a  gallon.' 

"  'Shore!'  agrees  Dead  Shot,  as  though  the 
idee  brings  him  relief.  Tor  a  moment  it  slips 


Dead  Shot  Baker  31 

my  mind  about  me  bein'  plugged.  But  as  I'm 
sayin',  gents,  don't  blame  her.  An'  don't 
blame  him.  I  has  my  chance,  an'  has  it  all 
framed  up,  too,  when  I  crosses  up  with  'em 
recent  over  in  Tucson,  to  kill  'em  both.  But 
I  can't  do  it,  gents.  The  six-shooter  at  sech 
a  time's  played  out.  That's  straight;  it  don't 
fill  the  bill;  it  ain't  adequate,  that  a-way.  So 
all  I  can  do  is  feel  sorry  for  'em,  an'  never  let 
'em  know  I  knows.  For,  after  all,  it  ain't 
their  fault,  it's  mine.  You  sports  see  that, 
don't  you?  She's  never  meant  for  me,  bein' 
too  fine;  an',  me  a  man,  I  ought  to  have 
knowed.' 

"Dead  Shot  ceases  talkin',  an'  Enright 
glances  at  Peets.  Peets  shakes  his  head  plenty 
sorrowful. 

'  'Go  on,'  he  says  to  Dead  Shot ;  'you-all 
wants  us  to  do — what?' 

"  'Thar  you  be!'  an'  at  the  sound  of  Peets' 
voice  Dead  Shot's  mind  comes  creepin'  back 
to  camp.  'She'll  be  happy  with  him — they 
havin'  so  much  in  common — an'  him  an'  her 
bein'  eddicated  that  a-way — an'  him  havin' 
traveled  a  whole  lot!  An'  this  yere's  what  I 
wants,  gents.  I  wants  you-all,  as  a  kindness  to 


32  Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

me  an'  in  a  friendly  way — seem'  I  can't  stay 
none  to  look-out  the  play  myse'f — to  promise 
to  sort  o'  supervise  round  an'  put  them  nup 
tials  over  right.  I  takes  time  by  the  forelock 
an'  sends  to  Tucson  for  a  sky-pilot  back  two 
days  ago.  Bar  accidents,  he'll  be  in  camp  by 
to-morry.  He  can  work  in  at  the  funeral,  too, 
an'  make  it  a  whipsaw.' 

"Dead  Shot  turns  his  eyes  on  Enright.  It's 
always  so  about  our  old  chief;  every  party 
who's  in  trouble  heads  for  him  like  a  coyote 
for  a  camp  fire. 

"  *  You '11  shore  see  that  he  marries  her? — ; 
Promise !' 

"Thar's  a  quaver  in  Dead  Shot's  voice,  Peets 
tells  me,  that's  like  a  pra'r. 

"  'Thar's  my  hand,  Dead  Shot,'  says 
Enright,  who's  chokin'  a  little.  'So  far  as 
the  letter  man's  concerned,  it'll  be  the 
altar  or  the  windmill,  Jack  Moore  an' 
a  lariat  or  that  preacher  party  you  refers 
to.' 

"Dead  Shot's  gettin'  mighty  weak.  After 
Enright  promises  he  leans  back  like  he's  takin' 
a  rest.  He's  so  still  they're  beginnin'  to  figger 
he's  done  cashed  in;  but  all  at  once  he  starts 


Dead  Shot  Baker  33 

up  like  he's  overlooked  some  bet,  an'  has 
turned  back  from  eternity  to  tend  to  it. 

"  'About  Cherokee  an'  his  box,'  he  whispers ; 
'that's  a  lyin'  bluff  I  makes.  Tell  him  I  don't 
mean  nothin';  I'm  only  out  to  draw  his 
fire.' 

"After  this  Dead  Shot  only  rouses  once. 
His  voice  ain't  more'n  a  sigh. 

"  'I  forgets  to  tell  you,'  he  says,  'to  give  her 
my  love.  An'  you  say,  too,  that  I'm  bumped 
off  like  snuffin'  out  a  candle — too  plumb  quick 
for  her  to  get  yere.  An'  don't  blame  her, 
gents ;  it's  not  her  fault,  it's  mine.' 

"It's  the  week  after  the  fooneral.  The  post 
master's  still  in  town,  partly  by  nacheral  pref 
erence,  partly  because  Enright  notifies  Jack 
Moore  to  ride  herd  on  him,  an'  fill  him  as  full 
of  lead  as  a  bag  of  bullets  in  event  he  onder- 
takes  to  go  stampedin'  off. 

"In  the  Red  Light  the  seventh  evenin'  En- 
right  rounds  up  Peets. 

'  'Doc,4'  he  says,  'a  month  would  be  more 
respect'ble,  but  this  yere's  beginnin'  to  tell 


on  me.' 


'  'Besides,'  Peets  chips  in,  by  way  of  he'pin' 
Enright  out,  'that  preacher  sharp  corraled  over 


34          Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

to  Missis  Rucker's  is  gettin'  restless.  Onless 
we  side-lines  or  puts  hobbles  on  that  divine  we- 
all  can't  expect  to  go  holdin'  him  much 
longer.' 

"Enright  leads  the  way  to  the  r'ar  wareroom 
of  the  Noo  York  store,  which  bein'  whar  the 
stranglers  holds  their  meetin's  is  Wolfville's 
hall  of  jestice.  After  licker  is  brought  En- 
right  sends  Jack  Moore  for  the  postmaster, 
who  comes  in  lookin'  plenty  white.  Missis 
Rucker  brings  over  the  divine;  an'  next  Dead 
Shot's  widow — she's  plumb  lovely  in  black — 
appears  on  the  arm  of  Peets,  who  goes  in 
person. 

"Thar's  a  question  in  the  widow's  eye,  like 
she  don't  onderstand. 

"  'Roll  your  game,'  says  Enright  to  the 
preacher  sharp. 

"It's  yere  an'  now  Dead  Shot's  widow  fully 
b'ars  out  that  philos'pher  who  announces  so 
plumb  cold,  that  a-way,  that  women's  the  su 
blimation  of  the  onexpected.  Jack  Moore's 
jest  beginnin'  to  manoover  that  recreant  pub 
lic  servant  into  p'sition  on  the  widow's  left 
hand,  so's  he  can  be  married  to  the  best  ad 
vantage,  an'  the  preacher  sharp's  gettin'  out 


Dead  Shot  Baker  35 

an'  openin'  his  book  of  rooks,  when  the  widow 
draws  back. 

"P'intin'  at  the  bridegroom  postmaster, 
same  as  if  he's  a  stingin'  lizard,  she  addresses 
Enright. 

"  'Whatever's  the  meanin'  of  this?' 

"  'Merely  the  croode  preelim'naries,  Ma'am/ 
Enright  explains,  'to  what  we-all  trusts  will 
prove  a  fa'rly  deesir'ble  weddin'.' 

"  'Me  marry  him?'  an'  the  onmitigated  scorn 
that  relict  exhibits,  to  say  nothin'  of  her  tone 
of  voice,  shore  makes  the  postmaster  bride 
groom  feel  chagrined. 

'You'll  pardon  us,  Ma'am,'  returns  En- 
right,  soft  an'  depreecatory,  tryin'  to  get  her 
feelin's  bedded  down,  'which  you'll  shore  par 
don  us  if  in  our  dullness  we  misreads  your 
sentiments.  You  see,  the  notion  gets  somehow 
proned  into  us  that  you  wants  this  party. 
Which  if  we  makes  a  mistake,  by  way  of  re- 
pa'rin'  that  error,  let  me  say  that  if  thar's  any 
one  else  in  sight  whom  you  preefers,  an'  who's 
s'fficiently  single  an'  yoothful  to  render  him 
el'gible  for  wedlock,' — yere  Enright  takes  in 
Boggs  an'  Texas  with  his  gaze,  wharat  Texas 
grows  as  green-eyed  as  a  cornered  bobcat — 


36          Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

'he's  yours,  Ma'am,  on  your  p'intin'  him  out.' 

"  'Which  I  don't  want  to  marry  no  one/ 
cries  the  widow,  commencin'  to  sob.  'An'  as 
for  marryin'  him  speshul' — yere  she  glances 
at  the  bridegroom  postmaster  in  sech  a  hot  an' 
drastic  way  he's  left  shrivellin'  in  his  own 
shame — 'I'd  sooner  live  an'  die  the  widow  of 
Dead  Shot  Abner  Baker  than  be  the  wife  of 
a  cornfield  full  of  sech.' 

"Everybody  stares,  an'  Enright  takes  a 
modicum  of  Old  Jordan. 

"  'You  don't  deeserve  this  none,'  he  says  at 
last,  turnin'  to  the  postmaster  bridegroom. 
'Onder  the  circumstances,  however,  thar's  noth- 
in'  left  for  me  to  do  as  cha'rman  but  deeclar' 
this  yere  weddin'  a  misdeal.' 

"Texas  is  plumb  disgusted. 

"  'Don't  some  folks  have  nigger  luck,  Dan?' 
he  says. 

"Later,  after  thinkin'  things  up  an'  down  in 
his  mind,  Texas  takes  ombrage  at  Enright's 
invitin'  Dead  Shot's  widow  to  look  him  an' 
Boggs  over  that  a-way,  an'  take  her  pick. 

"  'Which  sech  plays  don't  stand  ace-high 
with  me,  Sam,'  Texas  says — 'you  tryin'  to 
auction  me  off  like  you  does.  Even  a  stran- 


Dead  Shot  Baker  37 

ger,  with  a  half-way  hooman  heart,  after  hear- 
in'  my  story  would  say  that  I  already  suffers 
enough.  An'  yet  you,  who  calls  yourse'f  my 
friend,  does  all  that  lays  in  your  callous  power 
to  thrust  me  back  into  torment.' 

"  'Texas,'  replies  Enright,  like  he's  bore 
about  all  he  can,  'you  shorely  worries  me  with 
your  conceit.  If  you- all  won't  take  my  word, 
then  go  take  a  good  hard  look  at  yourse'f  in 
the  glass.  Thar's  never  the  slightest  risk,  as 
everybody  but  you  yourse'f  sees  plainly,  of 
that  lady  or  any  other  lady  takin'  you.' 

"  'You  thinks  not?'  asks  Texas,  plenty  in 
censed. 

"  'Which  I  knows  not.  No  lady's  lot  ain't 
quite  that  desp'rate.' 

"  'Well,'  returns  Texas,  after  a  pause,  his 
face  expressin'  his  soreness,  'I'm  yere  to  say, 
Sam,  I  don't  agree  with  you,  none  whatever. 
You  forgets  that  I've  already  been  took  in 
wedlock  bonds  by  one  lady.  An'  while  that 
Laredo  wife  of  mine  is  hard  an'  crooel,  all 
Texas  knows  she's  plumb  partic'lar.  Also,  no 
one  ever  yet  comes  pirootin'  up  the  trail  who 
doubts  her  taste.' 

"It's  the  evenin'  before  the  preacher  sharp 


38          Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

goes  back  to  Tucson,  when  Enright  edges  him 
off  into  a  corner  of  the  O.  K.  dinin'  room. 

"  'Parson/  says  Enright,  lookin'  like  he's  a 
heap  bothered  about  somethin' — 'parson,  in  ad 
dition  to  your  little  game  as  a  preacher  that 
a-way,  you  don't  happen  to  be  up  none  on 
table-tippin'  or  sperit  rappin',  same  as  them 
mediums,  do  you?' 

"  'Which  I  shore  don't,'  replies  the  preacher 
sharp,  archin'  his  neck,  indignant.  'Likewise, 
I  regyards  them  cer'monials  you  alloodes  to 
as  satantic  in  their  or'gin.' 

'  'Doubtless,  parson,'  returns  Enright,  some 
disapp'inted,  'doubtless.  Still,  if  you-all  but 
counts  the  rings  on  my  horns,  as  givin'  some 
impression  of  the  years  I've  lived  an'  what 
troubles  I've  probably  gone  through,  you'll 
onderstand  that  I  ain't  takin'  Satan  no  more 
serious  than  a  empty  six-shooter.  But  the 
mere  trooth  is,  parson,  I'm  pestered  by  them 
promises  I  makes  deeceased.  Which  I'd  give 
a  yellow  stack  to  get  put  next  to  Dead  Shot's 
sperit  long  enough  to  explain  concernin'  them 
nuptials,  an'  make  cl'ar  jest  how  me  an'  the 
Doc  falls  down.'  " 


II 


OLD   MAN   ENRIGHT  S   UNCLE 

"Which  you'll  excoose  me,"  and  the  old 
cattleman  replaced  his  glass  upon  the  table 
with  a  decisive  click,  "if  I  fails  to  j'ine  you  in 
them  sent'ments.  For  myse'f,  I  approves  on- 
reserved  of  both  lies  an'  liars.  Also,  that  ree- 
mark  goes  double  when  it  comes  to  public  liars 
tellin'  public  lies.  Which,  however  se'fish  it 
may  sound,  I  prefers  this  gov'ment  to  last  my 
time;  an'  it's  my  idee  that  if  them  statesmen 
back  at  Washington  ever  takes  a  hour  off 
from  their  tax-eatin'  an'  tells  the  people  the 
trooth,  the  whole  trooth  an'  nothin'  but  the 
trooth  of  their  affairs,  said  people'll  be  down 
on  the  sityooation  instanter,  like  a  weasel  on 
a  nest  of  field  mice,  an'  wipe  the  face  of  nacher 
free  an'  cl'ar  of  these  United  States." 

The  above  was  drawn  forth  by  my  condem 
natory  comments  on  the  published  speech  of  a 
Senator,  wherein  the  truth  was  as  a  grain  of 
wheat  in  a  bushel  of  mendacious  chaff. 


40          Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

"Shore,"  continued  the  old  gentleman,  with 
the  manner  of  one  who  delivers  final  judg 
ment,  "lies  is  not  only  to  be  applauded,  but 
fostered.  They're  the  angle-irons  an'  corner- 
braces  that  keeps  plumb  the  social  fabric, 
wantin'  which  the  whole  frame-work  of  soci'ty 
would  go  leanin'  sideways,  same  as  that  Eye- 
talian  tower  you  shows  me  the  picture  of  the 
other  day.  Why,  if  everybody  in  the  world 
was  to  go  tellin'  the  trooth  for  the  next  hour 
ninety-nine  folks  in  every  hundred  would  be 
obleeged  to  put  in  the  rest  of  their  lives  hidin' 
out. 

"Do  I  myse'f  ever  lie? 

"Frequent  an'  plumb  cheerful.  I  bases  life 
on  the  rooles  laid  down  by  that  sharp  who  ad- 
yises  folks  to  do  unto  others  as  others  does 
unto  them,  an'  beat  'em  to  it.  Believin',  thar- 
f ore,  in  handin'  a  gent  his  own  system,  I  makes 
it  my  onbreakable  practice  to  allers  lie  to  liars. 
Then,  ag'in,  whenever  some  impert'nent  prairie 
dog  takes  to  rummagin'  'round  with  queries  to 
find  out  my  deesigns,  I  onflaggingly  fills  him 
to  the  brim  with  all  forms  of  misleadin'  men- 
dac'ty,  an'  casts  every  fictional  obstruction  in 
his  path  that's  calc'lated  to  get  between  his 


Old  Man  Enrighfs  Uncle  41 

heels  an'  trip  him  up.  I  shore  do  admire  to 
stand  all  sech  inquirin'  mavericks  on  their 
heads,  an'  partic'ler  if  they're  plottin'  ag'in 
me. 

"An'  why  not?  A  party  that  a- way,  as  I 
some  time  ago  instructs  you,  ain't  got  no  more 
right  to  search  my  head  than  to  search  my  war- 
bags,  an'  a  gent  who  may  lock  a  door  may  lie. 
^Which,  if  you'll  go  off  by  yourse'f  an'  think 
this  yere  over,  you'll  see  that  it's  so,  an'  so 
with  a  double  cinch. 

"Thar's  statements,  too,  which,  speakin' 
technical,  might  be  regyarded  as  lyin'  which 
don't  in  jestice  class  onder  no  sech  head.  For 
spec'men,  when  Dick  Wooten,  upon  me  askin' 
him  how  long  he's  been  inhabitin'  the  Raton 
Pass,  p'ints  to  the  Spanish  Peaks  an'  says, 
'You  see  them  em'nences?  Well,  when  I 
pitches  camp  in  this  yere  gully  them  mountings 
was  two  holes  in  the  ground,'  I  don't  feel  like 
he's  lyin'.  I  merely  remembers  that  he  steals 
the  bluff  from  old  Jim  Bridger,  grins  an'  lets 
it  go  at  that. 

"Likewise,  I'm  sim'larly  onaffected  towards 
that  amiable  multitoode  who  simply  lies  to  en 
tertain.  These  yere  latter  sports  in  their  pree- 


42          Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

var 'cations  is  public  benefactors.  You-all  can 
spread  yourse'f  out  in  the  ca'm  shadow  of  their 
yarns,  same  as  if  it's  the  shade  of  a  tree,  an' 
find  tharin  reefreshment  an'  reepose. 

"While  the  most  onimag'native  of  us,  from 
Peets  to  Cherokee,  ain't  none  puny  as  conver 
sationists,  the  biggest  liar,  ondoubted,  who  ever 
comes  romancin'  into  Wolfville  is  Enright's 
uncle,  who  visits  him  that  time.  Back  in  Ten 
nessee  a  passel  of  scientists  makes  what  this 
yere  relative  of  Enright's  deescribes  as  a  'The 
ological  Survey'  of  some  waste  land  he  has  on 
Gingham  Mountain,  an'  finds  coal.  An'  after 
that  he's  rich.  Thus,  in  his  old  age,  but  chip 
per  as  a  coopful  of  catbirds,  he  comes  rackin' 
into  town,  allowin'  he'll  take  a  last  look  at  his 
nephy,  Sam,  before  he  cashes  in. 

"His  name  is  Stallins,  bein'  he's  kin  to  En- 
right  on  his  mother's  side,  an'  since  thar's  nine 
ahead  of  him — Enright's  mother  bein'  among 
the  first — an'  he  don't  come  along  as  a  infant 
ontil  the  heel  of  the  domestic  hunt  that  a-way, 
he's  only  got  it  on  Enright  by  ten  years  in  the 
matter  of  age. 

"No,  I  shore  shouldn't  hes'tate  none  to  men 
tion  him  as  a  topsawyer  among  liars,  the  same 


THE    SECOND    EVENING    OLD    8TALLINS   IS   WITH    US,    DAN    BOGG8   AN?    TEXAS   THOMP 
SON    UPLIFTS    HIS    AGED    SPERITS   WITH   THE    "LOVE    DANCE    OF   THE    CATA 
MOUNTS."  p,    43. 


Old  Man  Enright's  Uncle  43 

bein'  his  constant  boast  an'  brag.  He  accepts 
the  term  as  embodyin'  a  compliment,  an'  the 
quick  way  to  get  his  bristles  up  is  to  su'gest 
that  his  genius  for  mendac'ty  is  beginnin'  to 
bog  down. 

"For  all  that,  Enright  imparts  to  me,  pri 
vate,  that  the  old  gent  as  a  liar  ain't  a  marker 
to  his  former  se'f. 

"'You've  heard  tell,'  Enright  says,  'of 
neighborhood  liars,  an'  township  liars,  an' 
county  liars;  an'  mebby  even  of  liars  whose 
fame  as  sech  might  fill  the  frontiers  of  a  state. 
Take  my  uncle,  say  forty  years  ago,  an'  give 
him  the  right  allowance  of  baldface  whiskey, 
an'  the  coast-to-coast  expansiveness  of  them 
fictions  he  tosses  off  shore  entitles  him  to 
the  name  of  champion  of  the  nation.  Com- 
par'd  to  him,  Ananias  is  but  a  ambitious 
amatoor.' 

"It's  the  second  evenin'  old  Stallins  is  with 
us,  an'  Enright  takes  him  over  to  Hamilton's 
Dance  Hall,  whar  Boggs  an'  Texas — by  par- 
tic'lar  reequest — uplifts  his  aged  sperits  with 
that  y'ear-splittin'  an'  toomultuous  minyooet, 
the  cLove  Dance  of  the  Catamounts.'  Which 
the  exh'bition  sets  his  mem'ry  to  millin',  an' 


44          Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

when  we  gets  back  to  the  Red  Light  he  breaks 
out  remin'scent. 

'  *  Sammy,'  he  says  to  Enright,  'you  was  old 
enough  to  rec'llect  when  I  has  that  location 
over  on  the  upper  Hawgthief  ?  Gents,'  he  goes 
on,  turnin'  to  us,  'it's  a  six-forty,  an' — side 
hill,  swamp  an'  bottom — as  good  a  section 
as  any  to  be  crossed  up  with  between  the 
Painted  Post  an'  the  'Possum  Trot.  It's  that 
"Love  Dance  of  the  Catamounts"  which  brings 
it  to  my  mind,  since  it's  then  an'  thar,  by  vir- 
choo  of  a  catamount,  I  wins  my  Sarah  Ann. 

'  'She's  shore  the  star-eyed  Venus  of  the 
Cumberland,  is  my  Sarah  Ann.  Her  ha'r, 
black  as  paint,  is  as  thick  as  a  pony's  mane; 
her  lips  is  the  color  of  pokeberry  juice;  her 
cheeks — round  an'  soft — is  as  cl'ar  an'  bright 
an'  glowin'  as  a  sunset  in  Jooly;  her  teeth  is 
as  milk-white  as  the  inside  of  a  persimmon 
seed.  She's  five-foot-eleven  without  her 
mocassins,  stands  as  up  an'  down  as  a  pine  tree, 
got  a  arm  on  her  like  the  tiller  of  a  scow,  an' 
can  heft  a  full-sized  side  of  beef  an'  hang  it 
on  the  hook.  That's  fifty  years  ago.  She's 
back  home  on  the  Hawgthief  waitin'  for  me 
now,  my  Sarah  Ann  is.  You'd  say  she's  as 


Old  Man  Enright's  Uncle  45 

gray  as  a  'possum,  an'  as  wrinkled  as  a  burnt 
boot.  Mebby  so;  but  not  to  me,  you  bet. 
She's  allers  an'  ever  to  me  the  same  endoorin' 
hooman  sunburst  I  co'tes  an'  marries  that  long 
time  ago.' 

"Old  Stallins  pauses  to  reefresh  himse'f,  an' 
Texas,  who's  been  fidgetin'  an'  frettin'  since 
the  first  mention  of  Sarah  Ann,  goes  whisper- 
in'  to  Boggs. 

"  'Can't  some  of  you-all,'  he  says,  plenty 
peevish,  'head  this  yere  mushy  old  tarrapin  off? 
This  outfit  knows  what  I  suffers  with  that 
Laredo  wife  of  mine.  An'  yet  it  looks  like 
I'm  to  be  tortured  constant  with  tales  of  mar 
ried  folks,  an'  not  one  hand  stretched  out  to 
save  me  from  them  reecitals.' 

'  'Brace  up,'  returns  Boggs,  tryin'  to  com 
fort  him.  'Thicken  your  hide  ag'in  sech  child 
ish  feelin's,  an'  don't  be  so  easy  pierced.  Be 
sides,  I  reckons  the  worst's  over.  He's  comin' 
now  to  them  catamounts.' 

"Texas  grinds  his  teeth,  an'  old  Stallins  re- 
soomes  his  adventures. 

"  'My  Sarah  Ann's  old  pap  has  his  location 
jest  across  the  Hawgthief  from  me.  Besides 
him  an'  Sarah  Ann,  thar  ain't  nobody  but  the 


46  Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

old  woman  in  the  fam'Iy,  the  balance  of  'em 
bavin'  been  swept  away  in  a  freshet.  Shore, 
old  man  Bender — that's  Sarah  Ann's  pap's 
name — has  fourteen  children  once,  Sarah  Ann, 
who's  oldest,  bein'  the  first  chicken  on  the  do 
mestic  roost.  But  the  other  thirteen  is  carried 
off  one  evenin'  when,  what  with  the  rains  an' 
what  with  the  snow  meltin'  back  on  Gingham 
Mountain,  the  Hawgthief  gets  its  back  up. 
Swish  comes  a  big  wave  of  water,  an'  you  hear 
me  them  children  goes  coughin'  an'  kickin'  an' 
splutterin'  into  the  misty  beyond. 

"  Which  I  says  thirteen  only  because  that's 
whar  old  Bender  allers  puts  his  loss.  Zeb 
Stiles,  who  lives  on  the  Painted  Post,  insists 
that  it's  fifteen  who  gets  swept  away  that  time. 
He  allows  he  counts  them  infant  Benders  two 
evenin's  before,  perched  along  on  old  Bender's 
palin's  like  pigeons  on  a  limb.  Thirteen  or 
fifteen,  however,  it  don't  make  no  difference 
much,  once  they're  submerged,  that  a-way. 

"  'Mebby  I've  been  co'tin'  my  Sarah  Ann 
for  goin'  on  six  months,  givin'  her  b'ar  robes 
an'  mink  pelts,  with  now  an'  then  a  pa'r  of 
bald  eagle  wings  to  bresh  the  hearth.  Nothin' 
heart-movin',  however,  comes  off  between  us, 


Old  Man  Enright's  Uncle  47 

Sarah  Ann  keepin'  me  at  arm's  len'th  an' 
comportin'  herse'f  plumb  uppish,  as  a  maiden 
should.  She's  right;  a  likely  girl  can't  be  too 
conserv'tive  techin'  what  young  an'  boundin' 
bucks  comes  co'tin'  at  her  house. 

"  'Old  Bender  sort  o'  likes  me  in  streaks. 
After  he  gets  bereft  of  them  thirteen  or  fif 
teen  offspring  he  turns  morose  a  whole  lot,  an' 
I  used  to  go  'cross  in  my  dugout  an'  cheer  him 
up  with  my  lies. 

"  'Could  I  lie? 

"  'My  nephy,  Sammy,  thar'll  nar'ate  how  I 
once  lies  a  full-grown  b'ar  to  death.  The  cun- 
nin'  varmint  takes  advantage  of  me  bein'  with 
out  my  weepons,  an'  chases  me  up  a  tree.  I 
ensconces  myse'f  in  the  crotch,  an'  when  the 
b'ar  starts  to  climb  I  hurls  down  ontrooth  after 
ontrooth  on  top  of  him  ontill,  beneath  a  ava 
lanche  of  falsehood,  he's  crushed  dead  at  the 
base  of  the  tree.  Could  I  lie,  you  asks?  Even 
folks  who  don't  like  me  concedes  that  I'm  the 
most  irresist'ble  liar  south  of  the  Ohio  river. 

"'While  I'm  upliftin'  the  feelin's  of  old 
Bender  mendacious  that  a-way,  he  likes  me; 
it's  only  when  we  gets  to  kyard-playin'  he 
waxes  sour.  He's  a  master-hand  to  gamble, 


48  Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

old  Bender  is,  an'  as  shore  as  I  shows  up,  fol- 
lowin'  a  lie  or  two,  he's  bound  he'll  play  me 
seven-up  for  a  crock  of  baldface  whiskey. 
Now  thar  ain't  a  sport  from  the  Knobs  of  old 
Knox  to  the  Mississippi  who  could  make  seed 
corn  off  me  at  seven-up,  an'  nacherally  I  beats 
old  Bender  out  of  the  baldface. 

'With  that  he'd  rave  an'  far,  an'  make  like 
he's  goin'  to  jump  for  his  8-squar'  Hawkins 
rifle,  whar  she's  hangin'  on  a  pa'r  of  antlers 
over  the  door;  but  he'd  content  himse'f  final 
by  orderin'  me  out  of  the  shack,  sayin'  that  no 
sech  kyard-sharpin'  galoot  as  me  need  come 
pesterin'  'round  allowin'  to  marry  no  child  of 
his'n.  At  sech  eepocks,  too,  it  looks  like  Sarah 
Ann  sees  things  through  the  eyes  of  her  old 
man,  an'  she's  more'n  common  icy. 

'  'One  day  old  Bender  goes  weavin'  over  to 
Pineknot,  an'  starts  to  tradin'  bosses  with  Zeb 
Stiles.  They  seesaws  away  for  hours,  an'  old 
Bender  absorbs  about  two  dollars'  worth  of 
licker,  still-house  rates.  In  the  finish  Zeb  does 
him  brown  an'  does  him  black  on  the  swap,  so 
it  don't  astonish  nobody  to  death  when  next 
day  he  quiles  up  in  his  blankets  sick.  Marm 
Bender  tries  rekiverin'  him  with  yarbs,  an' 


Old  Man  Enrighfs  Uncle  49 

kumfrey  tea,  an*  sweet  gum  saV.  When  them 
rem'dies  proves  f  ootile  she  decides  that  perhaps 
a  frolic'll  fetch  him. 

"  'It's  about  second  drink  time  in  the  after 
noon  when  Marm  Bender  starts  out  Fiddler 
Abe,  givin'  notice  of  the  treat.  I  hears  the  old 
nigger  as,  mule-back,  he  goes  meanderin* 
along,  singin': 

Thar's  a  smoke  house  full  of  bacon, 
An'  a  barrel  full  of  rum. 
For  to  eat  an'  drink  an*  shake  a  laig 
You've  only  got  to  come. 

4  *As  soon  as  Fiddler  Abe  starts  singin'  the 
girls  an'  boys  begin  comin'  out  of  the  woods 
like  red  ants  out  of  a  burnin'  log,  headin'  hot 
foot  for  old  Bender's. 

"  T)o  I  go? 

'  'It  ain't  a  hour  after  candle  lightin'  when, 
with  mebby  it's  a  pint  of  baldface  onder  the 
buckle  of  my  belt,  I'm  jumpin'  higher,  shout- 
in'  louder,  an'  doin'  more  to  loosen  the  punch 
eons  in  the  floor  than  any  four  males  of  my 
species  who's  present  at  that  merry-makin'. 
It  he'ps  old  Bender,  too,  an'  inspired  by  the 
company  an'  onder  the  inflooence  of  four  or 


50          Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

five  stiff  toddies,  he  resolves  not  to  let  that 
boss  trade  carry  him  to  a  ontimely  grave,  an' 
is  sittin'  up  in  his  blankets,  yellin',  "Wake 
snakes;  an'  Gin'ral  Jackson  fit  the  Injuns!" 
in  happy  accord  with  the  sperit  of  his  times. 

'  *  Fiddler  Abe  strikes  into  the  exyooberant 
strains  of  "Little  Black  Bull  Come  Down  the 
Mountains,"  an'  I  hauls  Ten-spot  Mollie  out 
of  the  gin'ral  ruck  of  calico  for  a  reel.  We 
calls  her  Ten-spot  Mollie  because  she's  got  five 
freckles  on  each  cheek.  All  the  same,  when  it 
comes  to  dancin',  she's  shore  a  she-steamboat. 
Every  time  we  swings  she  hefts  me  plumb  free 
of  the  floor,  an'  bats  my  heels  ag'in  the  rafters 
ontil  both  ankles  is  sprained. 

'  *  Sarah  Ann  falls  jealous,  seem'  me  an' 
Ten-spot  Mollie  thus  pleasantly  engaged,  an' 
to  get  even  goes  to  simperin'  an'  talkin'  giggle- 
talk  to  Mart  Jenkins,  who's  rid  in  from  Rapid 
Run.  Jenks  is  a  offensive  numbskull  who's 
wormed  his  way  into  soci'ty  by  lickin'  all  the 
boys  'round  his  side  of  Gingham  Mountain. 
At  that,  he's  merely  tol'rated. 

"  'Seein'  Sarah  Ann  philanderin'  with 
Jenks,  I  lets  go  of  Ten-spot  Mollie,  who  goes 
raspin'  an'  rollin'  into  a  corner  some  abrupt, 


Old  Man  Enright's  Uncle  51 

an'  sa'nters  across  to  whar  they're  at.  Leanin' 
over  Sarah  Ann's  off-shoulder,  bein'  the  one 
furthest  from  that  onmitigated  Jenks,  I  says, 
"Sweetheart,  how  can  you  waste  time  talkin' 
to  this  yere  hooman  Sahara,  whose  intellects 
is  that  sterile  they  wouldn't  raise  cow-pease?" 

"  'This  makes  Jenks  oneasy,  an'  getting  up, 
he  reemarks,  "Dick  Stallins,  I'll  be  the  all- 
firedest  obleeged  to  you  if  you'll  attend  on  me 
to  the  foot  of  the  hollow,  an'  bring  your  in- 
strooments." 

"  'At  this  I  explains  that  I  ain't  got  my  in- 
strooments  with  me,  havin'  left  both  rifle  an' 
bowie  in  the  dugout  when  I  paddles  over  to 
the  dance. 

'  'Jenks  makes  a  insultin'  gesture,  an'  ree- 
torts,  "Don't  crawl,  Dick  Stallins.  Borry  old 
Bender's  nine-inch  bootcher,  an'  come  with 


me." 


'To  appease  him  I  says  I  will,  an'  that  I'll 
•j'ine  him  at  the  before  named  slaughter- 
ground  in  the  flicker  of  a  lamb's  tail.  Jenks 
stalks  off  plumb  satisfied,  while  I  searches  out 
Ben  Hazlett,  an'  whispers  that  Jenks  is  askin' 
for  him  some  urgent,  an'  has  gone  down  the 
trace  towards  the  foot  of  the  hollow  to  look 


52          Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

him  up.  Nacherally,  my  diplom'cy  in  this  yere 
behalf  sends  Ben  cavortin'  after  Jenks;  an* 
this  relieves  me  a  heap,  knowin'  that  all  Jenks 
wants  is  a  fight,  an'  Ben'll  do  him  jest  as  well 
as  me. 

' Which  them  was  shorely  happy  days !'  he 
continyoos,  settin'  down  the  bottle  wharwith 
he's  been  encouragin'  his  faculties.  'Troo, 
every  gent  has  to  sleep  with  his  head  in  a  iron 
kettle  for  fear  of  Injuns,  an'  a  hundred  dol 
lars  is  bigger'n  a  cord  of  wood,  but  life  is 
plenty  blissful  jest  the  same.' 

'Was  you  afraid  of  this  yere  Jenks?'  asks 
Boggs. 

"  'No  more'n  if  he's  a  streak  of  lightnin'. 
Only,  I've  got  on  a  new  huntin'  shirt,  made  of 
green  blanket  cloth,  an'  I  ain't  none  strenuous 
about  havin'  that  gyarment  all  slashed  up. 

"  'To  proceed:  After  I  dispatches  Ben  on 
the  heels  of  Jenks  that  a-way  it  occurs  to  me 
that  mebby  I'm  sort  o'  tired  with  the  labors  of 
the  evenin',  an'  I'll  find  my  dugout,  ferry  my- 
se'f  over  to  my  own  proper  wickyup,  an'  hit  the 
hay  for  a  snooze.  I'm  some  hurried  to  the  con- 
cloosion  by  the  way  in  which  eevents  begins 
to  accumyoolate  in  my  immedyit  vicin'ty.  Bill 


Old  Man  Enright's  Uncle  53 

Wheeler  announces  without  a  word  of  warnin' 
that  he's  a  fly  in'  alligator,  besides  advancin* 
the  theery  that  Gene  Hemphill  is  about  as  dee- 
serv'dly  pop'lar  as  a  abolitionist  in  South 
Caroliny.  I  suspects  that  this  attitoode  of 
mind  on  Bill's  part  is  likely  to  provoke  discus 
sion,  which  suspicion  is  confirmed  when  Gene 
knocks  Bill  down,  an'  boots  him  into  the  door- 
yard.  Once  in  the  open,  after  a  clout  or  two, 
Gene  an'  Bill  goes  to  a  clinch  an'  the  fightin* 
begins. 

'  'It  ain't  no  time  when  the  circumf 'rence  of 
trouble  spreads.  Bud  Ingalls  makes  a  pass  at 
me  pers'nal,  an'  by  way  of  reeprisal  I  smashes 
a  stewpan  on  him.  Bud's  head  goes  through 
the  bottom,  like  the  clown  through  them  paper 
hoops  in  a  cirkus,  the  stewpan  fittin'  down 
'round  his  neck  same  as  one  of  them  Eliz- 
bethan  ruffs.  The  stewpan  ockyoopies  so 
much  of  Bud's  attention  that  I  gets  impatient, 
an'  so,  tellin'  him  I  ain't  got  no  time  to  wait, 
I  leaves  him  strugglin'  with  that  yootensil,  an' 
strolls  off  down  to  the  Hawgthief  whistlin' 
"Sandy  Land." 

4  'It's  dark  as  the  inside  of  a  cow,  an'  some 
how  I  misses  the  dugout;  but  bein'  stubborn, 


54  Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

an'  plumb  sot  about  gettin'  home,  I  wades  in 
an'  begins  to  swim.  The  old  Hawgthief  is 
bank  full,  but  I'd  have  made  t'other  side  all 
right  if  it  ain't  that,  as  I  swims  out  from  onder 
the  overhangin'  branch  of  a  tree,  somethin' 
drops  into  the  water  behind  me,  an'  comes 
snarlin'  an'  splashin'  an'  spittin'  along  in  pur- 
soote.  I  don't  pay  much  heed  at  the  jump,  but 
when  it  claws  off  my  nigh  moccasin,  leavin'  a 
inch-deep  gash  in  my  heel,  I  glances  back  an' 
perceives  by  the  two  green  eyes  that  I've  be 
come  an  object  of  comsoomin'  int'rest  to  a 
pa'nter,  or  what  you-all  out  yere  calls  a  moun 
tain  lion,  an'  we-uns  back  in  Tennessee  a  cata 
mount.' 

"But  a  panther  won't  swim,'  reemonstrates 
Tutt. 

"  'Arizona  catamounts  won't,'  returns  old 
Stallins,  'thar  bein'  no  rivers  to  speak  of.  But 
in  Tennessee,  whar  thar's  rivers  to  waste,  them 
cats  takes  to  the  water  like  so  many  muskrats. 

"  'When  I  finds  that  thar's  nothin'  doggin' 
me  but  a  catamount,  I  heads  all  casyooal  for 
whar  a  tree's  done  been  lodged  midstream, 
merely  flingin'  the  reemark  over  my  shoulder 
to  the  catamount  that,  if  he  keeps  on  annoyin' 


Old  Man  Enrighfs  Uncle  55 

me,  he'll  about  pick  up  the  makin's  of  a  maul- 
in'.  As  I  crawls  out  on  the  bole  of  the  lodged 
tree,  I  can  hear  the  catamount  sniggerin',  same 
as  if  he's  laughin'  me  to  scorn,  an'  this  yere 
insultin'  contoomely  half-way  makes  me  mad. 
Which  I  ain't  in  the  habit  of  bein'  took  lightly 
by  no  catamount. 

*  'Drawin'  myse'f  out  o'  the  water,  I  strad 
dles  the  bole  of  my  tree,  an'  organizes  for  the 
catamount,  who's  already  crawlin'  after  me. 
T'arin'  off  a  convenient  bough  the  thickness 
of  your  laig,  I  arranges  myse'f  as  a  reeception 
committee  for  visitin'  catamounts,  an'  by  way 
of  beginnin'  confers  on  my  partic'lar  anamile 
sech  a  bat  over  the  snout  that  he  falls  back  into 
the  drink,  an'  starts  to  swimmin'  fancy  an' 
goin'  'round  in  circles,  same  as  if  his  funny- 
bone's  been  teched. 

'  'Every  time  he  gets  in  reach  I  jabs  him  in 
the  eye  with  the  splinter  end  of  the  bough,  an' 
at  last  he  grows  that  disgusted  at  these  for- 
mal'ties  he  swims  off  to  the  bank.  Thar  he 
camps  down  on  his  ha'nches,  an'  glares  green- 
eyed  at  me  across  the  ragin'  flood. 

c  *  Shore,  I  could  have  raised  the  long  yell 
for  he'p,  but  am  withheld  by  foolish  pride.  Be- 


56          Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

sides,  I  can  hear  Ben  an'  Jenks  tusslin*  an' 
gruntin'  an'  carryin'  on  over  in  the  mouth  of 
the  hollow,  as  they  kyarves  into  each  other  with 
their  knives,  an'  don't  want  to  distract  their 
attention. 

'  'As  I  sets  camped  thar  on  my  lodged  tree, 
an'  the  catamount  is  planted  on  the  bank,  I 
hears  the  lippin'  splash  of  a  paddle,  an'  then  a 
voice  which  sounds  like  a  chime  of  bells  floats 
across  to  ask,  "Dick  Stallins,  you  ornery  runni- 
gate,  wharever  be  you?" 

"  'It's  my  Sarah  Ann,  whose  love,  gettin' 
the  upper  hand  of  maidenly  reeserve,  has  sent 
her  projectin'  'round  in  search  of  me.  She's 
in  my  dugout. 

"  'The  catamount  identifies  her  as  soon  as 
me;  an'  thinkin'  she  ought  to  be  easy,  he  slides 
into  the  water  ag'in  an'  starts  for  the  boat. 
It's  that  dark  I  ain't  shore  of  his  deesigns  ontil 
I  sees  him  reach  up,  tip  the  dugout  over,  an' 
set  Sarah  Ann  to  wallowin'  in  the  rushin'  tor 
rent.  The  dugout  upsets  on  the  catamount, 
an'  this  so  confooses  him  that,  by  the  time  he's 
got  his  bearin's,  Sarah  Ann's  been  swept  down 
to  my  tree,  an'  I've  lifted  her  to  a  seat  by  my 
!  side.  The  catamount  don't  try  to  lay  siege  to 


Old  Man  Enright's  Uncle  57 

our  p'sition,  recognizing  it  as  impregnable,  but 
paddles  back  to  the  shore  an'  goes  into  watch 
ful  camp  as  prior. 

"  Tor  myse'f,  I'm  so  elevated  with  love  an' 
affection  at  havin'  Sarah  Ann  with  me,  I  dis 
misses  the  catamount  as  a  dead  issue,  an'  as 
sech  beneath  contempt,  an'  by  way  of  molli- 
fyin'  Sarah  Ann's  feelin's,  cuts  loose  an'  kisses 
her  a  gross  or  two  of  times,  an'  each  like  the 
crack  of  a  bull-whacker's  whip. 

"  'Old  Bender  hears  them  caresses  plumb  up 
to  his  house — as  well  he  may,  they're  that  on- 
reeserved  an'  earnest — an'  thinks  it's  some  one 
shootin'  a  rifle.  It  has  the  effect  of  bringin' 
out  the  old  Spartan  with  his  Hawkins ;  an'  the 
first  word  of  it  that  reaches  me  an'  Sarah  Ann 
is  him,  Marm  Bender  an'  the  whole  b'ilin'  of 
folks  is  down  thar  on  the  bank,  tryin'  to  make 
out  in  the  gen'ral  dimness  whatever  be  we-all 
lovers  doin'  out  thar  in  the  middle  of  the 
Hawgthief  on  a  snag. 

'They  don't  deetect  my  catamount  none, 
which  sagacious  feline  slinks  off  into  the  shad 
ows  covered  with  conf  oosion ;  all  they  sees  is  us. 
An'  the  spectacle  certainly  excites  old  Bender. 
"Gen'ral  Jackson  fit  the  Injuns!"  he  exclaims, 


58          Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

as  all  of  a  sudden  a  thought  strikes  him;  "that 
measly  excoose  for  a  Union  Democrat  out  thar 
is  seekin'  to  eelope  with  our  Sarah  Ann." 

"  'The  old  murderer  starts  to  get  a  bead  on 
me  with  the  Hawkins.  "Father,"  yells  Marm 
Bender,  pullin'  at  his  sleeve,  "y°u  shore  must 
be  mistook." 

"  'Old  Bender  won't  have  it.  "Maw,"  he 
returns,  strivin'  to  disengage  himse'f,  "I  was 
never  mistook  about  nothin'  in  my  life  but 
once,  an'  that's  when  I  shifts  from  baldface 
whiskey  to  hard  cider  on  a  temp 'ranee  argyoo- 
ment.  Let  me  go,  woman,  till  I  drill  the  mis 
creant  an'  wash  the  stain  from  our  fam'ly 
honor." 

'  'Before  the  old  hom'cide  can  get  to  laun- 
derin'  the  fam'ly  honor  in  my  blood,  however, 
Sarah  Ann  has  interposed.  "Don't  go  to  blaz 
ing  away  at  my  Dickey,  pop,"  she  sings  out, 
"or  I'll  shore  burn  every  improvement  you  got, 
an'  leave  you  an'  maw  an'  me  roofless  in  the 
midst  of  the  wilderness." 

"  'This  goes  a  long  way  towards  soberin' 
down  old  Bender,  because  he  knows  my  Sarah 
Ann's  the  Cumberland  hollyhock  to  put  them 
menaces  into  execootion.  He  lowers  the  muz- 


Old  Man  Enright's  Uncle  59 

zle  of  his  old  8-squar',  an'  allows  if  I  promises 
to  marry  the  girl  I  can  swim  ashore  an'  be  for 
given. 

"  'Thus  the  matter  ends  mighty  amic'ble. 
We'all  goes  trackin'  up  to  the  house,  a  preacher 
is  rushed  to  the  scene  from  Pineknot,  an'  them 
nuptials  between  Sarah  Ann  an'  me  is  sol'm- 
nized.  Shore,  Jenks  an'  Ben  is  thar.  They're 
found  by  a  committee  of  their  friends  scat 
tered  about  at  the  foot  of  the  hollow,  an'  is 
collected  an'  brought  up  to  the  weddin'  in 
blankets.  Dave  Daniels,  who  surveys  the  scene 
next  day,  says  you  could  plant  corn  whar  they 
fit,  it's  that  plowed  up. 

'  'Followin'  the  cer'mony  Marm  Bender  an' 
the  old  gent  takes  me  into  their  hearts  an' 
cabin  like  I'm  their  own  an'  only  son.  He's 
a  great  old  daddy-in-law,  old  Bender  is,  an' 
is  ven'rated  for  forty  miles  about  Gingham 
Mountain,  as  deevoted  heart  an'  soul  to  bald- 
face,  seven-up  an'  sin  in  any  shape. 

'That  match-makin'  catamount? 

'We  hives  him.  Me  an'  my  new  daddy-in- 
law  tracks  him  to  his  reetreat,  an'  when  we're 
through  he's  plumb  used  up.  I  confers  the 
pelt  on  my  Sarah  Ann;  an'  she  spreads  it  on 


60          Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

the  floor  over  by  her  side  of  the  bed,  so  as  to 
put  her  little  number  sevens  on  it  when  she 
boils  out  of  a  winter's  mornin'  to  light  the  fire, 
an'  rustle  me  my  matoot'nal  buckwheat  cakes 
an'  sa'sage.' ' 


Ill 

CYNTHIANA,   PET-NAMED   ORIGINAL   SIN 

"This  yere  speecific  heroine  is  a  heap  oncon- 
ventional,  so  much  so  as  to  be  plumb  puzzlin* 
to  the  common  mind.  Jest  the  same,  she  fin 
ishes  winner,  an'  makes  herse'f  a  gen'ral  source 
of  pride.  She  don't  notify  us,  none  whatever, 
that  she  intends  a  Wolfville  deboo;  jest  nach- 
erally  descends  upon  us,  that  a-way,  as  onan- 
nounced  as  a  mink  on  a  settin'  hen.  All  the 
same,  we  knows  she's  comin'  while  yet  she's 
five  mile  out  on  the  trail.  Not  that  we  savvys 
who  she  is  or  what  she  aims  at ;  we  merely  gets 
moved  up  next  to  the  fact  that  she's  a  lady,  an' 
likewise  no  slouch  for  looks. 

"We  reads  these  yere  trooths  in  the  dust  old 
Monte  kicks  up,  as  he  comes  swingin'  in  with 
the  stage.  Which  it's  the  weakness  of  this  in 
ebriate,  as  I  tells  you  former,  that  once  let  him 
get  a  lady  aboard,  it  looks  like  it's  a  signal  for 
him  to  go  pourin'  the  leather  into  his  team  like 
he  ain't  got  a  minute  to  live.  It's  a  p'lite  at- 

61 


62  Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

tention  he  assoomes,  in  his  besotted  way,  is  doo 
the  sex. 

"It's  the  more  strange,  too,  since  it's  the 
only  attention  Monte  ever  pays  'em.  He  never 
looks  at  'em,  never  speaks  to  'em ;  simply  plants 
himse'f  on  the  box,  as  up  an'  down  as  a  cow's 
tail,  an'  t'ars  into  them  harassed  bosses.  If 
the  lady  he's  complimentin'  that  a-way  was  to 
get  jolted  overboard — which  the  same  wouldn't 
be  no  mir'cal,  considerin'  how  that  dipsomaniac 
drives — it's  even  money  he  leaves  her  hunched 
up  like  a  jack-rabbit  alongside  the  trail,  an' 
never  thinks  of  stoppin'  or  turnin'  back.  He's 
merely  a  drunkard  with  that  one  fool  idee  of 
showin'  off,  an'  nothin'  the  stage  people's  ever 
able  to  say  can  teach  him  different.  From 
first  to  last  you-all  could  measure  Monte's 
notion  of  the  pulcritoode  of  a  petticoat  passen 
ger  by  the  extent  to  which  he  lams  loose  with 
his  whip.  Given  what  he  deems  is  a  she-sun 
burst,  he  shorely  does  maltreat  the  company's 
live  stock  shameful. 

"  'If,'  observes  Peets,  as  a  bunch  of  us  stands 
gossipin'  round  in  front  of  the  Red  Light  that 
time,  watchin'  the  dust  cloud  draw  nearer  an' 
nearer — 'if  it's  poss'ble  to  imagine  the  old  sot 


Cynihiana,  Pet-named  Original  Sin    63 

as  havin'  a  Cleopatra  to  freight  over  from  Tuc 
son,  it's  a  cow  pony  to  a  Mexican  sheep  he'd 
kill  one  of  the  wheelers.' 

"Thar  ain't  none  of  us  knows  who  this  yere 
Cleopatra  the  Doc  refers  to  is,  onless  it's  Colo 
nel  Sterett,  who  edits  the  Daily  Coyote.  Still, 
the  compar'son  is  plenty  convincin'.  Accord- 
in'  to  the  Doc  himself,  this  Cleopatra's  a  mete 
oric  female  party,  as  lively  as  she  is  lovely, 
who  sets  a  passel  of  ancient  sports  to  walkin' 
in  a  cirkle  back  some'ers  in  the  mists  of  time. 
Also,  it's  bloo  chips  to  white,  an'  bet  'em  higher 
than  a  cat's  back,  the  Doc  knows.  The  Doc 
is  ondoubted  the  best  eddicated  gent  that  ever 
makes  a  moccasin  track  between  Yuma  an'  the 
Raton  Pass,  an'  when  he  onbuckles  techin' 
any  historic  f eachures,  you  can  call  for  a  goose- 
ha'r  pillow,  an'  go  to  sleep  on  it  he  ain't  bark- 
in'  at  no  knot. 

"Thar's  a  feeble  form  of  young  tenderfoot 
pesterin'  about  the  suburbs  of  the  crowd.  He's 
one  of  them  hooman  deficits,  so  plumb  ornery 
as  to  be  useless  East,  which  their  f  am 'lies,  in 
gettin'  rid  of  'em,  saws  happ'ly  off  onto  a  on- 
protected  West.  This  partic'lar  racial  disas 
ter's  been  on  our  hands  now  mebbe  it's  six 


64          Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

months,  an'  we-all  is  hopin'  that  in  some  p'int- 
less  sort  o'  way  he'll  brace  up  and  do  overt 
acts  which  entitles  us  to  stampede  him  out  of 
camp.  But  so  far  he  don't. 

"This  yere  exile  comes  wanderin'  into  the 
talk  by  askin' — his  voice  as  thin  as  a  curlew's: 

"  'Who  is  this  old  Monte  you're  alloodin* 
at?' 

'  Whoever  he  is?'  says  Boggs.  *  Which  if 
you-all'd  struck  camp  by  way  of  Tucson,  in 
stead  of  skulkin'  upon  us  in  the  low-down  fash 
ion  you  does  along  of  the  Lordsburg-Red  Dog 
buckboard,  you  wouldn't  have  to  ask  none. 
He's  the  offishul  drunkard  of  Arizona,  Monte 
is.  Which  the  same  should  be  notice,  too,  that 
it's  futile  for  you  to  go  ropin'  at  that  p'sition. 
I  says  this,  since  from  the  quantity  of  Old  Jor 
dan  you've  been  mowin'  away,  I  more'n  half 
infers  that  you  nourishes  designs  upon  the 
place.' 

"The  feeble  young  shorthorn  smiles  a  puny 
smile,  and  don't  lunge  forth  into  no  more 
queries. 

"Texas,  who's  been  listenin'  to  what  Boggs 
says,  squar's  'round  an'  half-way  erects  his 
crest  for  an  argyooment.  Texas  has  had  mari- 


Cynthiana,  Pet-named  Original  Sin     65 

tal  troubles,  an'  him  ponderin'  the  same  con 
stant  renders  him  some  morbid  an'  morose. 

"  'From  your  tone  of  voice,  Dan,'  remarks 
Texas,  *I  takes  it  you  holds  Monte's  appe 
tite  for  nose  paint  to  be  a  deef ect.  That's  whar 
I  differs.  That  old  marauder  is  a  drunkard 
through  sheer  excess  of  guile.  He  finds  in 
alcohol  his  ark  of  refooge.  I  only  wish  I'd 
took  to  whiskey  in  my  'teens.' 

"Boggs  is  amazed. 

"  'Texas,'  he  says,  plenty  sorrowful,  'it 
wouldn't  astonish  me  none  if  you  finds  your 
finish  in  a  wickeyup  deevoted  to  loonatics, 
playin'  with  a  string  of  spools.' 

1  That's  your  onthinkin'  way.  Do  you 
reckon  now,  if  I'd  been  a  slave  to  drink  when 
that  Laredo  wife  of  mine  first  sees  me,  she'd 
have  w'irled  me  to  the  altar  an'  made  me  the 
blighted  longhorn  you  sees  now  ?  She  wouldn't 
have  let  me  get  near  enough  to  her  to  give  her 
a  bunch  of  grapes.  It's  my  sobri'ty  that's  my 
ondoin',  that  an'  bein'  plumb  moral.  Which 
I  onerringly  traces  them  divorce  troubles,  an' 
her  sellin'  up  my  stock  at  public  vandoo  for 
cost  an'  al'mony  like  she  does,  to  me  weakly 
holdin'  aloof  from  whisky  when  I'm  young.' 


66          Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

"  'Which  I  shore,' — an'  Boggs  shows  he's 
mighty  peevish  an'  put  out — 'never  meets  up 
with  a  more  exasp'ratin'  conversationist!  It's 
because  you're  sech  an'  egreegious  egotist! 
,You-all  can't  talk  ten  minutes,  Texas,  but 
what  you're  allers  bringin'  in  them  domestic 
affairs  of  yours.  If  you  desires  to  discuss 
whiskey  abstract,  an'  from  what  the  Doc  thar 
calls  a  academic  standp'int,  I'm  your  gent. 
But  I  declines  to  be  drug  into  personal'ties, 
in  considerin'  which  I  might  be  carried  by  the 
heat  of  deebate  to  whar  I  gets  myse'f  shot  up.' 

"  'I  sees  your  attitood,  Dan;  I  sees  your  at- 
titood,  an'  respects  it.  Jest  the  same,  thar's 
an  anti-nuptial  side  to  the  liquor  question,  an' 
bein'  a  drunkard  that  a-way  is  not  without  its 
compensations . ' 

"  'But  he's  bound  to  be  so  blurred,'  reemon- 
strates  Boggs,  who  by  nacher  is  dispootatious, 
an'  once  started  prone  to  swing  an'  rattle  with 
a  topic  like  a  pup  to  a  pig's  y'ear:  'That 
drunkard  is  so  plumb  blurred.' 

"'Blurred  but  free,  Dan,'  retorts  Texas, 
mighty  firm.  'Don't  overlook  no  sech  bet  as 
that  drunkard  bein'  free.  Also,  it's  better  to 
be  free  than  sober.' 


Cynihiana,  Pet-named  Original  Sin     67 

"  'Coin'  back  to  Monte,'  says  Boggs,  re 
turning  to  the  orig'nal  text;  'half  the  time,  over 
to  the  O.  K.  Restauraw  when  Missis  Rucker 
slams  him  down  his  chuck,  he  ain't  none  shore 
he's  eatin'  flapjacks  or  rattlesnakes.  The  other 
day,  when  Rucker  drops  a  plate,  he  jumps 
three  feet  in  the  air,  throws  up  his  hands  an' 
yells,  "Take  the  express  box,  gents,  but  spar' 
my  life!"  It's  whiskey  does  it.  The  old  cim- 
maron  thinks  it's  road  agents  stickin'  him  up.' 

"Dispoote  is  only  ended  by  the  stage  thun- 
derin'  in — leathers  creakin',  chains  jinglin', 
hosses  a  lather  of  sweat  an'  alkali  dust,  Monte 
cocked  up  on  the  box  as  austere  as  a  treeful 
of  owls.  He's  for  openin'  the  door,  but  Peets 
is  thar  before  him.  Let  it  get  dealt  down  to 
showin'  attentions  to  a  lady,  an'  the  briskest 
sport'll  have  to  move  some  sudden,  or  the 
Doc'll  beat  him  to  it.  Which  he  certainly  is 
the  p'litest  drug  sharp  of  which  hist'ry  makes 
mention ! 

"The  Doc  offers  his  hand  to  he'p  her  out, 
but  she  hits  the  ground  onaided  as  light  as  any 
leaf.  Nacherally  we  looks  her  over.  Take  her 
from  foretop  to  fetlocks,  she's  as  lovely  as  a 
diamond  flush.  She's  got  corn-colored  ha'r, 


68          Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

an'  eyes  as  soft  as  the  sky  in  Joone.  Peets 
calls  'em  azure — bein'  romantic.  As  for  the 
rest  of  us,  we  don't  call  'em  nothin'.  Thar's  a 
sprightly  look  about  'em,  which  would  shore 
jestify  any  semi-proodent  gent  in  jumpin' 
sideways.  Likewise,  she's  packin'  a  Colt's  .45, 
an'  clutchin'  a  Winchester  in  her  little  claw, 
the  same  contreebutin'  a  whole  lot  toward  mak- 
in'  her  impressive  as  a  pageant. 

'  'How  are  you,  sports?'  she  says,  tossin'  her 
disengaged  hand  a  heap  arch.  'I  gets  word 
about  you-all  up  in  Vegas,  an'  allows  I'll  come 
trundlin'  down  yere  an'  size  you  up.  My  idee 
is  you  needs  regen'ratinY 

"  'Is  thar  anything  we-all  can  he'p  you  to, 
Miss?'  asks  Enright,  who  takes  the  play  away 
from  Peets.  'If  aught  is  wanted,  an'  thar's  a 
lariat  in  the  outfit  long  enough  to  reach,  you- 
all  can  trust  Wolf  ville  to  rope,  throw  an'  hawg- 
tie  the  same  accordin'  to  your  wishes.' 

"  'Yes,'  adds  Peets,  'as  Sam  says,  if  thar's 
any  little  way  we-all  can  serve  you,  Miss,  jest 
say  the  word.  Likewise,  if  you  don't  feel  like 
speakin',  make  signs;  an'  if  you  objects  to 
makin'  signs,  shake  a  bush.  All  we  reequires 
is  the  slightest  hint.' 


Cynthiana,  Pet-named  Original  Sin     69 

"  'Be  ca'm,'  says  the  young  lady,  her  manner 
as  se'f-confident  as  if  she's  a  queen.  "Thar's 
nothin'  demanded  of  you  outlaws  except  to 
tamely  listen.  I'm  a  se'f-respectin',  se'f-sup- 
portin'  young  female,  who  believes  in  Woman 
Suffrage,  an'  the  equality  of  the  sexes  in  pol'- 
tics  an'  property  rights.  Which  my  name  is 
Bark,  baptized  Cynthiana,  the  same  redooced 
by  my  old  pap,  while  yet  alive,  into  the  pet 
name  of  Original  Sin.  It's  my  present  pur 
pose  to  become  a  citizen  of  this  yere  camp,  an' 
take  my  ontrammeled  place  in  its  commercial 
life  by  openin'  a  grogshop.  Pendin'  which,  do 
you-all  see  this?' — an'  she  dallies  gently  with 
a  fringe  of  b'ar-claws  she's  wearin'  as  a  neck 
lace,  the  same  bein'  in  loo  of  beads.  'That 
grizzly's  as  big  an'  ugly  as  him.'  Yere  she 
tosses  a  rose-leaf  hand  at  Boggs,  who  breaks 
into  a  profoose  sweat.  'I  downs  him.  Also, 
I'll  send  the  first  horned-toad  among  you,  who 
pays  me  any  flagrant  attentions,  pirootin'  after 
that  b'ar.  Don't  forget,  gents:  my  name's 
Bark,  Cynthiana  Bark,  pet-named  Original 
Sin,  an'  thar's  a  bite  goes  with  the  Bark.' 

"Havin'  conclooded  this  yere  salootatory, 
Miss  Bark,  givin'  a  coquettish  flourish  to  her 


70          Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

Winchester,  goes  trapsein'  over  to  the  O.  K. 
Restauraw,  leavin'  us — as  the  story-writer  puts 
it — glooed  to  the  spot.  You  see  it  ain't  been 
yoosual  for  us  to  cross  up  with  ladies  who, 
never  waitin'  for  us  to  so  much  as  bat  an  ad- 
mirin'  eye  or  wag  an  adorin'  y'ear,  opens  nee- 
gotations  by  threatenin'  to  shoot  us  in  two. 

"  'Thar's  a  young  lady,'  says  Peets,  who's 
first  to  ketch  his  breath,  'that's  got  what  I  calls 
verve/ 

"  'Admittin'  which,'  observes  Enright,  some 
doubtful,  havin'  been  thrown  back  on  his  hocks 
a  whole  lot ;  'some  of  you-all  young  bucks  must 
none  the  less  have  looked  at  her  in  a  improper 
way  to  start  her  ghost-dancin'  like  she  does.' 

"Enright 's  eye  roves  inquirin'ly  from  Boggs 
to  Texas,  an'  even  takes  in  Tutt. 

'  'Not  me !'  declar's  Texas,  plenty  fervent ; 
'not  me! — more'n  if  she's  a  she  rattle 
snake  !' 

'  'As  the  husband  of  Tucson  Jennie,'  ob 
serves  Tutt,  his  air  some  haughty — which  he 
allers  puts  on  no  end  of  dog  whenever  he  men 
tions  his  fam'ly — 'as  the  husband  of  Tucson 
Jennie,  an'  the  ondoubted  father  of  that  public 
ornament  an'  blessin',  little  Enright  Peet$ 


Cynihiana,  Pet-named  Original  Sin     71 

Tutt,  I  do  not  regyard  it  as  up  to  me  to  cl'ar 
myse'f  of  no  sech  charges.' 

"  'Sam,5  says  Boggs,  his  voice  reproachful, 
'you  notes  how  she  makes  invidious  compar'- 
sons  between  me  an'  that  b'ar,  an'  how  she 
beefs  the  b'ar?  After  which  gratooitous  slur 
it's  preeposterous  to  s'ppose  I'd  go  admirin' 
her  or  to  takin'  any  chances.' 

'Then  it's  you,'  says  Enright,  comin'  round 
on  the  puny  tenderfoot.  'Jack,'  he  continyoos, 
appealin'  to  Jack  Moore,  who's  kettle-tender 
to  the  Stranglers,  of  which  arm  of  jestice  En- 
right  is  chief — 'Jack,  do  you  reemark  any  on- 
toward  looks  or  leers  on  the  part  of  this  yere 
partic'lar  prairie  dog,  calc'lated  to  alarm  a 
maiden  of  fastidious  feelin's?' 

"  'Sir,'  breaks  in  the  feeble  young  tender 
foot,  an'  all  mighty  tremyoolous,  'as  shore  as 
my  name  is  Oscar  Freelinghuysen  I  never  even 
glances  at  that  girl.  I  ain't  so  much  as  present 
iwhile  she's  issuin'  her  deefiances.  I  lapses  into 
the  Red  Light  the  moment  I  observes  how  she's 
equipped,  an'  Black  Jack,  the  barkeep,  will 
iver'fy  my  words/ 

'  'All  right,'  warns  Enright,  plumb  severe, 
'you  be  careful  an'  conduct  yourself  deecorous. 


72  Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

LWolfville  is  a  moral  camp.  Thar's  things 
done  every  day  an'  approved  of  in  Noo  York 
which'd  get  a  gent  downed  in  Wolfville.' 

"  'That  Miss  Bark  mentions  she's  Woman 
Suffrage,  Sam?'  observes  Boggs,  in  a  question- 
in*  way,  as  we  stands  sloppin'  out  a  recoopera- 
tive  forty  drops  in  the  Red  Light. 

"  'Shore!'  replies  Enright.  'The  Doc  yere 
can  tell  you  all  about  'em.  As  I  onderstands, 
they're  a  warlike  bevy  of  women  who  voylently 
resents  not  bein'  born  men.  Thar's  one  thing, 
however;  I  sincerely  trusts  that  none  of  you 
young  sports '11  prove  that  forward  an'  onwary 
as  to  go  callin'  her  by  her  pet  name  of  Original 
Sin.  Which  she  might  take  advantage  of  it. 
Them  exponents  of  women's  rights  is  plumb 
full  of  the  onexpected,  that  a-way,  an'  it's  my 
belief  that  all  who  ain't  honin'  to  commit  sooi- 
cide'll  be  careful  an'  address  her  as  Miss 
Bark.' 

"  'Be  they  many  of  that  Woman  Suffrage 
brand?'  persists  Boggs. 

"  'Herds  of  'em,'  chips  in  Peets.  'The  East 
ern  ranges  is  alive  with  'em.  But  they  don't 
last.  As  a  roole  they  gets  married,  an'  that's 
gen'rally  speakin'  the  end  of  their  pernicious 


Cynihiana,  Pet-named  Original  Sin     73 

activ'ties.     Wedlock  is  a  heap  apt  to  knock 
their  horns  off.' 

"Faro  Nell,  Tucson  Jennie  an'  Missis 
Rucker  don't  take  to  this  Miss  Bark's  Woman 
Suffrage  views. 

'  'She's  welcome,'  says  the  latter  esteemable 
cook  an'  matron,  'to  her  feelin's;  but  she 
mustn't  come  preachin'  no  doctrine  to  me, 
wharof  the  effects  is  to  lower  me  to  Rucker's 
level.  I've  had  trouble  enough  redoocin'  that 
ground-hawg  to  where  he  belongs,  an'  I  ain't 
goin'  to  sacrifice  the  work  of  years  for  no  mere 
sentiments.' 

'Which  I  shore  agrees  with  you,  Missis 
Rucker,'  says  Nell,  lookin'  up  from  some 
plum  preeserves  she's  backin'  off  the  noonday 
board  to  consider  Cherokee,  who's  settin'  next ; 
'a  woman  has  enough  to  do  to  boss  one  gent, 
without  tryin'  to  roole  broadcast  over  whole 
commoonities.' 

"At  this  exchange  of  views  Cherokee  softly 
grins  like  a  sharp  who  can  see  his  way  through. 
As  for  Rucker,  who's  waitin'  on  the  table  an' 
packin'  in  viands  from  the  kitchen,  he  takes 
it  as  sullen  as  a  sorehead  dog.  Personal,  I 
ain't  got  no  use  for  Rucker;  but  between  us, 


74          Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

Missis  Rucker,  one  way  an'  another,  does  cer 
tainly  oppress  him  grievous. 

"Before  the  week  is  out  we  knows  a  lot  more 
about  Miss  Bark  than  we  does  when  she  first 
comes  prancin5  out  upon  us  from  Monte's 
stage.  Not  that  thar's  aught  ag'inst  the  lady. 
It's  doo  to  Enright,  who  begins  recollectin' 
things. 

"  'Which  I  knows  her  pop,'  explains  En* 
right,  'now  my  mem'ry's  assertin'  itse'f,  I 
knows  him  when  he  first  comes  bulgin'  into  the 
Pecos  Valley,  eighteen  years  ago.  This  Origi 
nal  Sin  daughter  an'  her  maw  don't  show 
up  none  till  later.  Thar's  no  more  innocent 
form  of  tenderfoot  than  Bark  ever  comes 
weavin'  into  the  Southwest.  He's  that  ig- 
norantly  innocent,  wild  geese  is  as  wise  as  ser 
pents  to  him.  But  he's  full  of  a  pains- 
takin'  energy,  all  the  same,  an'  mighty  assid- 
yoous  to  learn.' 

"  'Whatever  does  he  turn  to?'  asks  Texas. 

"  'He  hires  out  to  a  peach  ranch.  An'  this'll 
show  you  how  industrious,  that  a-way,  this 
Bark  tarrapin  is.  The  peach  ranch  party  has 
a  measly  bunch  of  sheep.  He  keeps  'em 
nights  in  a  box-tight  board  corral,  so's  the 


Cynihiana,  Pet-named  Original  Sin     75 

coyotes  can't  get  to  mingle  with  'em  none. 
Days  he  throws  'em  loose  to  feed.  The  first 
evenin'  the  peach  ranch  gent  tells  this  yere 
Bark  to  corral  the  sheep,  an'  then  come  in  for 
supper.  "An'  be  shore,"  says  the  peach  ranch 

party,  "you  £ets  'em  an*  i*1'" 

"  'An  hour  goes  by,  an'  the  peach  ranch 
party  is  about  through  his  feed,  when  this  yere 
Bark  drifts  up  to  the  table.  His  face  is 
flushed,  but  he's  w'arin'  a  look  of  triumph.  "I 
hives  'em,"  says  he,  some  exultant;  "only  one 
lamb  does  shore  force  me  to  extend  myse'f  a 
lot.  I'll  gamble  I  runs  a  hundred  miles  before 
I  rounds  him  up." 

4  'Next  mornin'  the  peach  ranch  party  goes 
out  to  throw  loose  them  sheep.  As  he  cranes 
his  neck  over  the  corral  fence  to  count  the 
bunch  he's  amazed  to  see  a  jack-rabbit  galump- 
in'  about  among  'em.  "Gin'ral  Jackson  fit  the 
English!"  he  exclaims;  "however  does  that 
jack-rabbit  get  himse'f  mixed  in  with  them 
sheep?"  An'  he  p'ints  it  out  to  Bark. 

"  'That  ontootered  person  is  all  astonish 
ment.  "Jack-rabbit !"  says  he.  "Why,  I  hopes 
next  fall  to  vote  the  reepublican  ticket  an'  die 
disgraced  if  I  don't  put  it  down  for  a  lamb! 


76  Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

That's  the  anamile  which  makes  me  run  my 
laigs  off  roundin'  of  him  up!"  ' 

'Which,  as  you  says,  Sam,'  reemarks  Tutt, 
signin'  up  to  Black  Jack  to  set  out  the  bottles, 
'in  the  face  of  sech  a  showin'  that  Bark  party 
must  have  been  plenty  ardent.' 

'  'I  should  shore  yell!'  coincides  Boggs. 

1  'But  he  learns  in  time,  of  course?'  questions 
Nell. 

'  'Learns,  Nellie?'  repeats  Enright;  'it  ain't 
three  years  before  he  identifies  himse'f  with  the 
life  about  him  to  that  degree  he  bumps  off  two 
kyard  sharps  who  tries  to  cold-deck  him  in  a 
poker  game,  an'  finds  besides  his  steady  em 
ployment  stealin'  old  John  Chisholm's  calves, 
tharby  assistin'  in  plantin'  the  toomultous  seed 
of  what  comes  subsequent  to  be  called  the  Lin 
coln  County  War.' 

'What's  the  finish  of  this  interestin'  crim'- 
nal?'  asks  Cherokee. 

'  'Lynched,'  returns  Enright.  'They  puts 
him  over  the  jump  at  Seven  Rivers.  You  see 
this  Rattlesnake — they  calls  him  Rattlesnake 
Bark  in  them  later  years — is  bunked  down  in 
one  of  these  yere  jim-crow,  barn-board  hotels. 
Thar's  a  resoundin'  form  of  guest  in  the  ad- 


Cynthiana,  Pet-named  Original  Sin     77 

joinin'  room,  snorin'  to  beat  four  kings  an'  a 
ace.  Rattlesnake  tries  poundin'  on  the  par 
tition,  an'  sw'arin'  at  him,  an'  callin'  him  a 
hoss  thief.  It's  no  avail.  The  snores  of  that 
boarder  sounds  like  sawin'  planks,  an'  fa'rly 
rocks  the  shack — they're  that  stormy.  Final, 
when  Rattlesnake's  burdens  gets  to  be  more'n 
flesh  an'  blood  can  b'ar,  he  reaches  for  his  .45, 
an'  bombards  that  sleeper  good  an'  plenty 
through  the  wall.  It  turns  out  it's  the  new 
jedge.  In  the  mornin',  when  this  joorist  is 
discovered  too  dead  to  skin,  the  public  is  that 
mortified  it  takes  Rattlesnake  out  as  soon 
as  breakfast's  over,  an'  strings  him  to  a 
limb.' 

6  'Don't  this  pore  Rattlesnake  get  no  hear- 
in'?' asks  Nell. 

'You  see,  Nellie,'  Enright  explains,  'what 
with  maverickin'  the  Chisholm  calves,  an'  a 
stage  or  two  hold-up  which  p'ints  to  him,  the 
close  season's  been  out  as  to  this  Rattlesnake 
person  for  mighty  like  a  year.  Not  but  what 
he  might  have  made  preperations.  Thar's  a 
reeligious  party  present  who  asks  Rattlesnake 
if  he  wants  to  pray  some.  "Which  you'll  cross 
the  dark  river  all  the  easier,"  expounds  the  ree- 


78  Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

ligious  gent.  But  Rattlesnake  reefuses  his 
ministrations.  "I'm  what  I  be,"  he  says;  "an' 
as  for  that  dark  river  you  refers  to,  I  ain't 
lookin'  for  no  shallow  ford." 

"  'This  Rattlesnake,'  continyoos  Enright,  'is 
iwillin'  to  learn  to  the  last.  It's  his  way. 
Spring  a  new  game  on  him  an'  he's  out  in- 
stanter  lookin'  for  information  an'  advice. 
That's  why  he  comes  on  so  fast.  Thar  bein' 
nothin'  to  stand  him  on  for  the  purpose  of 
bein'  lynched,  the  Stranglers  posed  Rattle 
snake  a-top  of  a  stack  of  hay,  which  is  heaped 
up  onder  the  tree  they're  yootilizin'.  When 
the  lariat  is  round  his  neck,  an'  he's  disposed 
of  the  reeligious  party  who  attempts  to  turn 
the  business  into  a  pra'r  meetin',  Rattlesnake 
looks  at  the  chief  of  the  committee  an'  says, 
"This  yere  bein'  hanged  from  hay-cocks  is 
plumb  new  to  me  entire,  an'  tharfore  I'm 
obleeged  to  ask  whether  you-all  expects  me  to 
Sump  off  or  slide?"' 

"  'Well,'  comments  Jack  Moore,  drawin'  a 
deep  breath,  'the  old  murderer's  game — mis 
guided,  mebby,  but  game.' 

"  'That  may  be  as  it  may,'  observes  Boggs, 
plenty  thoughtful,  'but  after  all  I  regyards 


Cynihiana,  Pet-named  Original  Sin     79 

these  yere  details  which  Sam  onfurls  as  chiefly; 
valyooable  as  sheddin'  a  ray  on  this  Miss  Bark. 
On  the  chance  that  she  takes  after  her  old  man, 
from  now  on  I'm  goin'  to  walk  'round  her  like 
she's  a  swamp.' 

"It's  ten  days  after  Miss  Bark  hits  camp 
that  things  begins  to  focus.  An  old  Mexican, 
the  color  of  a  blacksmith's  apron,  an'  his  wife, 
who's  the  same  prosaic  tint,  comes  creakin' 
along  with  a  six -mule  team — two  wagons,  lead 
an'  trail — loaded  to  the  gyards  with  stock  an' 
fixtures.  Said  par'fernalia  havin'  arrived, 
Miss  Bark  busts  in  the  door  of  the  old  deserted 
Lady  Gay,  an'  takes  possession.  Armstrong, 
who  runs  the  Noo  York  store,  is  the  owner  of 
the  Lady  Gay,  but  onder  the  circumstances  he 
allows  it'd  be  the  act  of  a  barbarian  to  inter 
fere. 

"Besides,  the  attitoode  of  the  young  lady; 
herse'f  is  plumb  discouragin'. 

4  'I'd  shore  admire,'  she  remarks,  as,  with' 
the  aid  of  her  Mexicans,  she  goes  tossin'  things 
into  p'sition,  'to  see  some  male  felon  try  to  run 
a  bluff  about  him  havin'  title  to  this  Lady  Gay 
structure,  an'  becomin'  my  landlord.  Men 
have  tyrannized  a  heap  too  long  as  it  is  over 


80          Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

onprotected  women,  an'  thar's  one  at  least 
who's  took  in  patient  silence  all  she  will.' 

"When  Miss  Bark's  organized,  she  tacks  up 
over  the  door  a  sign  which  the  painter  at  the 
stage  station  preepar's.  It  reads: 


VOTES  FOR  WOMEN  SALOON 


1  'Only  get  it  straight,'  says  Miss  Bark  when 
she  has  us  close-herded  at  chuck  time  in  the 
dinin'  room  of  the  O.  K.  Restauraw;  'I  ain't 
openin'  this  saloon  none  with  a  view  to  sordid 
gain.  I  got  money  enough  right  now  to  buy 
an'  burn  this  yere  deboshed  town  of  Wolfville, 
an'  then  prance  over  an'  purchase  an'  apply 
the  torch  to  that  equally  abandoned  outfit,  Red 
Dog.  What  I'm  reachin'  for  is  the  p'litical 
uplift  of  this  camp.  Recognizin'  whiskey  as 
a  permanency  an'  that  saloons  has  come  to 
stay,  I  aims  to  show  folks  how  them  reesorts 
should  be  run.  I  hopes  to  see  the  day  when 
every  s'loon'll  be  in  the  hands  of  ladies.  For 
I  holds  that  once  woman  controls  the  nose- 
paint  of  the  nation  the  ballot  is  bound  to  fol 
low.' 


Cynthiana,  Pet-named  Original  Sin     81 

"Once  it's  started  we-all  manages  to  pat 
ronize  the  Votes  For  Women  S'loon  for  a 
average  of  three  drinks  a  day.  Enright  ad 
vises  it  as  safer. 

"  'Otherwise  she  might  resent  it,'  explains 
Enright,  'an'  armed  to  the  teeth  like  she  is,  an' 
possessin'  them  perfervid  idees,  thar's  no  tell- 
in'  whar  she'd  end.' 

"None  of  us  feels  like  hangin'  out  thar.  The 
atmosphere  is  too  plumb  formal.  Besides,  this 
yere  Miss  Bark  has  rooles.  No  kyards  is  per 
mitted;  an',  moreover,  you've  got  to  go  out 
doors  to  sw'ar.  As  to  drinks,  the  soberest 
among  us  can't  get  licker  oftener  than  every 
other  time,  while  Monte  can't  get  none  at 
all.  That  Votes  For  Women  S'loon,  consid 
ered  as  a  house  of  call,  is,  an'  put  it  mildest, 
certainly  depressin'. 

"When  I  speaks  of  us  patronizin'  Miss 
Bark  for  three  daily  drinks,  that  a-way,  thar's 
exceptions.  Monte,  as  I  states,  is  barred  by 
the  lady  personal  on  the  grounds  of  him 
bein'  a  slave  to  drink;  while  Tutt  is  forbid  by 
Tucson  Jennie.  Tutt  chafes  some  at  them 
mandates  of  Jennie's ;  but  bein'  keenly  alive  as 
to  what's  comin'  to  her,  as  well  as  what  she's 


82          Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

cap'ble  of,  in  her  triple  role  of  woman,  wife 
an'  mother,  he  yields. 

"As  for  Texas,  while  he  subscribes  to  them 
three  diurnal  drinks,  he  allers  insists  that  he 
has  company. 

"'It's  all  right,'  Texas'd  say;  'I  ain't  inti- 
matin'  that  this  Miss  Bark  goes  cherishin'  de 
signs.  But  it's  my  onbreakable  roole,  since 
them  divoice  experiences,  to  never  enter  the 
presence  of  onmarried  ladies  onless  attended 
by  witnesses.' 

"Owin'  to  which,  some  of  us  allers  trails  in 
along  with  Texas  when  he  visits  the  Votes  For 
Women  S'loon.  Even  when  thus  protected 
he  onflaggin'ly  confines  his  observations  to 
'Licker,  Miss,  please!'  an'  stops  thar  as  dumb 
as  graven  images.  Once  the  licker's  before 
him  he  heaves  it  into  himse'f  same  as  if  it's 
drugs,  an'  instantly  pulls  his  freight  a  heap 
speedy,  breathin'  hard.  An'  all  as  scared  as  a 
jack-rabbit  that's  heard  the  howl  of  a  wolf. 

"Does  Miss  Bark  go  proselytin'  'round  con- 
cernin'  them  Rights  of  Women?  Which  she 
shore  does!  You  may  say  she  omits  no  op- 
portoonity.  It's  before  Wolfville  gets  that  ef 
fete  it  mixes  drinks,  an'  any  one  who  knows 


Cynihiana,  Pet-named  Original  Sin     83 

water  from  whiskey  can  'tend  bar.  Wharf  ore, 
Miss  Bark  stands  watch  an'  watch  with  her  old 
Mexican,  Pancho.  The  times  she  herse'f  is 
min'sterin'  to  our  needs  she's  preachin'  Woman 
Suffrage  incessant.  Also,  not  bein'  plumb 
locoed,  we  bows  in  concord  tharunto.  Enright 
an'  Peets  both  concurs  that  it's  the  thing  to 
do,  an'  we  does  it. 

"  *  Whatever  difference  does  it  make?'  says 
Enright ;  'the  price  of  steers  remains  the  same, 
three-of-a-kind  continyoos  to  beat  two  pa'r, 
thar's  still  fifty-two  kyards  in  a  faro  deck,  an' 
every  other  law  of  nacher  survives  onteched. 
My  notion  is  to  agree  with  this  Miss  Bark, 
verbal,  an'  trust  to  Wolfville's  onbeatable  luck 
to  pull  us  through.' 

"This  counsel  sounds  good  to  us,  an'  we  fol 
lows  it.  When  Miss  Bark  sets  forth  her  wom 
an's  rights  fulm'nations  along  with  her  nose- 
paint,  we  murmurs  a  hearty  assent,  an'  drinks 
down  both  impartial.  Boggs,  who's  'motional 
an'  easy  worked  on,  even  gets  to  whar  he  gives 
it  out  he's  actchooally  a  convert. 

"Miss  Bark  has  been  on  the  map  for  mebby 
it's  a  week,  then  thar  occurs  a  eeposide  which, 
while  it  makes  no  profound  impression,  de- 


84          Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

ceased  bein'  a  Mexican,  shows  she  ain't  packin' 
her  pap  Rattlesnake's  old  Colt's  .45  in  a  sperit 
of  facet iousness.  It's  about  third  drink  time 
one  evenin'  when  thar's  the  dull  roar  of  a  gun 
from  over  in  the  Votes  For  Women  S'loon. 
When  we  arrives  we  finds  a  dead  greaser  care 
lessly  quiled  up  near  the  door,  an'  Miss  Bark 
snappin'  the  empty  shell  out  of  her  six-shooter. 

"  'He  was  roode,'  is  the  only  explanation 
she  vouchsafes;  an'  Enright,  after  lookin'  at 
Peets  a  spell,  who's  lookin'  at  the  ceilin',  says 
it's  s'fficient. 

'  'Only,'  says  Enright,  when  we're  all  back 
safe  in  the  Red  Light,  'I  sincerely  trusts  she 
won't  get  her  hindsights  notched  up  to  whar 
she  takes  to  bumpin'  off  Americanos.  I  shore 
don't  know  whatever  in  sech  case  we  could  do, 
vig'lance  committees,  in  the  very  essence  of 
their  construction,  possessin'  no  joorisdiction 
over  ladies.' 

"  'That's  right,  Sam,'  says  Peets,  plenty 
grave;  'if  it  ever  gets  to  whar  this  Miss  Bark 
turns  her  artillery  loose  on  the  camp  permis'cus 
the  only  hope  left  would  be  to  adjourn  Wolf- 
ville  sine  die' 

"Miss    Bark,    however,    never    does    grow 


Cynihiana,  Pet-named  Original  Sin     85 

homicidal  toward  any  of  us,  an'  the  only  effect 
of  her  puttin'  that  Mexican  over  is  that  it  in 
clines  folks  gen'ral  to  step  high  an'  softly  on 
what  occasions  they're  found  plantigradin' 
about  in  her  s'ciety. 

"One  week,  two  weeks,  three  weeks  goes  by, 
an'  since  a  dead  Mexican  more  or  less  ain't 
calc'lated  to  leave  no  onefface'ble  scars  the  in 
cident  is  all  but  forgot,  when  a  second  uprisin' 
takes  place  in  the  Votes  For  Women  S'loon. 
This  time  it's  that  sickly  curlew-voiced  Oscar 
.who's  the  shriekin'  center  of  eevents.  Most  of 
us  is  jest  filin'  out  of  the  O.  K.  Restauraw, 
pickin'  our  teeth  after  our  matootinal  reepast, 
when  we  beholds  this  yere  Oscar  boilin'  fo'th 
from  the  Votes  For  Women  S'loon,  all  sprad 
dled  out.  As  he  goes  t'arin'  down  the  street 
Miss  Bark  seelects  a  graceful  p'sition  in  the 
door,  an'  ca'mly  pumps  three  loads  at  him  out 
of  her  Winchester.  When  I  says  she  pumps 
them  bullets  at  Oscar  it's  to  be  took  conserv'- 
tive;  for  none  of  'em  hits  him,  but  only  tosses 
up  the  dust  about  his  flyin'  feet.  At  the  last 
shot  Oscar  cripples  down  in  a  shiverin'  heap; 
an'  with  that  Texas  an'  Boggs,  not  knowin' 
the  extent  of  his  injuries,  rolls  him  onto  a 


86          Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

blanket  an'  packs  him  to  his  room  over  at  the 
O.  K.  House,  so's  Peets  can  prospect  his  frame 
all  scientific  locatin'  the  lead. 

"Thar  bein'  no  lead,  as  reelated,  Peets  ree- 
ports  final  to  that  effect. 

"  'Only,'  says  Peets,  'he's  scared  up  to  sech 
extents  that  if  our  Joan  of  Arc  had  dusted  his 
gaiters  with  so  much  as  two  more  bullets  he'd 
have  been  beyond  medical  skill.' 

"Followin'  the  foosilade  Miss  Bark  sends 
for  Enright. 

"  'It's  this  way,'  she  goes  on,  when  Enright 
arrives.  'That  shorthorn  Oscar  comes  lurchin' 
in,  an'  asks  for  nosepaint.  As  he  stands  thar, 
puttin'  it  onder  his  belt — me  meanwhile  swab- 
bin'  oft"  the  bar — he  mentions  that  his  paw's 
rich,  an'  his  step-maw's  jest  died,  leavin'  him 
an'  his  paw  alone.  Then  he  calls  attention  to 
the  presence  in  camp  of  that  strayed  sky-pilot, 
who  preaches  an'  passes  the  hat  the  other  even- 
in'  over  in  the  wareroom  of  the  Noo  York 
store.  It's  now,  havin'  got  the  bar  tittivated 
to  my  taste,  I  has  time  to  look  this  Oscar  per 
son's  way,  an'  I  finds  him  gloatin'  over  me  in 
form  an'  manner  not  to  be  mistook.  "What 
ever  be  you  leerin'  at?"  I  deemands,  bein'  I'm 


Cynthiana,  Pet-named  Original  Sin     87 

in  no  mood  for  insults.  Tharupon,  he  cuts 
loose  a  mouthful  of  platitoodes  concernin'  wed 
lock,  an'  about  me  bein'  the  soul  of  his  soul. 
Havin'  stood  it  a  while,  an'  findin'  my  for 
bearance  makes  him  worse,  I  grabs  my  Win 
chester  whar  it's  reposin'  ready  for  eemergin- 
cies  on  the  dripboard,  an'  you  knows  the  rest.' 

"  'With  your  free  consent,  Miss,'  says  En- 
right,  'I'd  like  to  put  one  query.  Was  you 
aimin'  to  down,  or  to  simply  skeer  this  Oscar  ?' 

"  'I  was  only  skeerin'  him  up  some,'  replies 
Miss  Bark  coyly.  'W'y,  if  I  was  reely  out  for 
his  skelp,  I'd  have  shore  got  it  a  heap.  You 
can  pin  a  patch  the  size  of  a  dollar  on  that 
disparin'  lover's  coat,  an'  I'l  cut  it  nine  times 
in  ten,  offhand,  at  a  hundred  yards.' 

'Tests  is  not  reequired,'  Enright  inter 
poses,  plenty  hasty ;  'it's  part  of  the  organic  law 
of  this  yere  camp  that  a  lady's  word,  even 
about  her  age,  is  to  be  took  onchallenged.' 

'"Which  I'm  flattered,'  says  Miss  Bark. 
'Now,  is  thar  anything  else?' 

'  'Only  this,'  returns  Enright.  'As  long  as 
he  gives  you  cause,  an'  you  can  shoot  like  you 
says,  why  ever  don't  you  down  him  ?' 

"  'Which  I  confesses,'  says  Miss  Bark,  a 


88  Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

blush  mantlin'  her  brow,  'that  sech  is  my  orig'- 
nal  intentions  when  I  reaches  for  my  weepon. 
But  jest  as  I  sees  that  Oscar  through  the  sights 
it  comes  upon  me  that  thar's  nothin'  in  bein' 
preecip'tate,  an'  mebby  I'd  better  give  myse'f 
the  needed  time  to  think  his  offer  over.' 

"Enright  shakes  his  wisdom-freighted  head; 
when  he  relates  his  talk  to  Peets,  the  Doc 
shakes  his  head  sim'lar  in  sapient  yoonison. 

"  'Which  I'll  bet  a  hatful  of  yellow  chips,' 
says  Boggs,  who's  stood  listenin',  'ag'inst  a 
handful  of  whites,  that  this  yere  Miss  Bark 
makes  herse'f  an'  that  Oscar  shorthorn  man  an' 
wife.' 

"  'Now  I  wouldn't  wonder  none,'  observes 
Peets,  replyin'  to  the  look  in  Enright's  eye. 
'That  shootin'  needn't  count.  A  troo  affection 
is  freequent  boisterous,  that  a-way.' 

"  'An'  in  case,'  says  Enright,  'the  kyards  do 
fall  in  favor  of  matrimony,  it'll  most  likely  be 
the  end  of  that  Votes  For  Women  S'loon.  I 
begins  to  see  how  this  yere  ongrateful  outfit 
may  yet  get  deep  in  debt  to  that  egreegious 
Oscar.' 

"None  of  us  ever  says  so,  but  it's  the  com 
mon  belief  that  Texas  connives  at  this  yere 


Cynihiana,  Pet-named  Original  Sin     89 

threatened  Oscar's  escape.  In  any  case,  the 
next  mornin'  Oscar  goes  catfoot  out  of  the  O. 
K.  House  before  folks  is  up,  an'  takes  to  hid- 
in'  out.  The  fact  is  he's  layin'  for  Monte 
an'  the  stage,  about  ten  mile  no'th  of  camp. 
Leastwise,  he's  thar  a  heap  when  Monte  comes 
along,  an'  deemands  that  he  be  took  up  an' 
carried  to  Tucson. 

"It  ain't  first  drink  time  before  this  Oscar's 
missed,  an'  by  second  drink  time  the  news  has 
drifted  over  to  Miss  Bark.  It's  Peets  who  in 
forms  her,  an'  he  tells  us,  when  reelatin'  the 
incident,  that  the  way  that  deeserted  lady  knits 
her  brow  is  a  caution  to  philos'phers. 

'  'So,'  she  says  at  last,  'that  onmitigated  see- 
doocer  thinks  to  leave  me  in  this  heartless  way. 
He'll  find  before  he's  through  that  it's  no  light 
matter  to  charm  into  fervent  life  a  love  like 
mine.' 

"  'It's  the  theery,  Miss,'  says  Peets,  'of  the 
best  minds  in  camp  that  this  Oscar's  hit  the 
Tucson  trail  afoot,  with  a  plan  of  headin'  off 
the  stage.' 

"Ten  minutes  an'  Miss  Bark  is  in  the  saddle, 
a  lead  pony  gallopin'  by  her  side,  in  hot  pur- 
soote  of  the  dir'lect. 


90  Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

"  'That  lead  pony  looks  om'nous,  Doc,'  ob 
serves  Enright,  as  the  two  stands  watchin'  Miss 
Bark's  departure. 

"  'It's  prov'dential,'  remarks  Peets,  as  he 
heads  the  procession  to  the  Red  Light,  'that 
that  sky-pilot's  aboard  the  stage.  Which  he 
ought  to  work  in  plumb  handy.' 

"Six  hours  later  Miss  Bark  comes  surgin' 
in  with  her  Oscar  foogitive,  his  heels  tied 
onder  the  belly  of  the  lead  boss.  Any  one  can 
see  by  his  benumbed  expression  that  he's  a 
married  man.  The  two  heads  straight  for  the 
Votes  For  Women  S'loon,  an'  after  boltin' 
her  new  he'pmeet  into  the  back  room, 
Miss  Bark  takes  a  peek  in  the  glass,  pats 
down  her  ha'r,  an'  goes  behind  the  bar  as 
yoosual. 

"  'Yes,'  she  replies,  an'  all  a  heap  modest  an' 
artless,  as  Peets  an'  Enright — actin'  on  behalf 
of  the  camp — gyardedly  inquires  if  they're  to 
offer  congratulations,  'I  reckon  you  may.  An' 
the  best  part  is  that  my  dear  Oscar's  so  plumb 
ready  an'  willin'.  Which  I  never  knows  a 
bridegroom,  gents,  who  gets  married  with  so 
little  struggle.' 

"  'How  soon,  Missis  Freelinghuysen,'  says 


Cynthiana,  Pet-named  Original  Sin     91 

Peets,  'do  you-all  reckon  on  lettin'  this  Oscar 
husband  out?' 

"  'Oh,'  she  returns,  'as  soon  as  ever  it's  safe. 
Jest  now  he's  some  onstrung;  but  in  a  day  or 
two  I  figger  he'll  begin  to  get  reeconciled  to 
his  bliss.  An'  at  that,  my  main  idee  in  lockin' 
him  up  is  one  of  reeform  rather  than  restraint. 
Oscar's  been  over-drinkin'  himse'f  of  late ;  an' 
I  aims  to  get  the  whiskey  out  of  him,  so  as  I 
can  form  some  reas'nable  estimate  of  how  much 
of  a  husband  that  a-way  I've  done  roped 
up.' 

"  'Is  thar  any  objections,'  asks  Enright,  'to 
our  visitin'  this  modern  pris'ner  of  Chillon? 
We  binds  ourselves  to  say  nothin'  that'll  fret 
him,  or  set  him  to  beatin'  his  life  out  ag'inst 
the  bars.' 

"  'W'y,  shore,'  she  replies,  'you-all  is  quite 
welcome.  I  only  hopes  you'll  teach  him  to 
look  at  things  in  their  proper  light.' 

'  'It  ain't  so  much,'  says  this  Oscar  hus 
band,  when  Enright  an'  Peets  calls  upon  him 
in  his  captivity,  'that  I've  been  hurried,  on- 
regyardful  of  my  feelin's,  into  the  married 
state.  But,  gents,  my  parent  is  doo,  accordin' 
to  his  last  letter,  to  come  curvin'  in  yere  any 


92  Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

minute;  an'  whatever  do  you-all  reckon  now 
he's  goin'  to  say?' 

"Enright  an'  Peets  is  so  moved  they  prom 
ises  the  imprisoned  Oscar  their  support,  an' 
this  leaves  him,  if  not  hopeful,  at  least  some 
cheered. 

"Monte  gives  his  version  of  them  nuptials 
when  he  returns  from  Tucson. 

'Which  it's  this  a-way,  pards,'  says  Monte. 
'I'm  twenty  miles  no'th  of  yere,  when  some- 
thin'  flashes  by  with  a  lead  hoss,  like  arrows. 
Thinks  I,  "That's  a  hoss  thief  gettin'  away 
with  some  stock";  an',  allowin'  Jack  Moore'll 
be  hard  on  his  neefarious  hocks,  I'm  lookin' 
back  to  see  can  I  raise  Jack's  dust.  The  next 
I  knows,  an'  all  as  sudden  as  a  pan  of  milk 
from  a  top  shelf,  I  hears  a  silv'ry  voice  remark- 
in':  "Set  your  brake!"  an'  turnin'  my  head  I 
finds  a  Winchester  p'intin'  as  squar'  between 
my  eyes  as  you-all  could  lay  your  finger. 
Gents,  thar's  something  mighty  cogent  about 
a  Winchester  that  a-way/  an'  I  shore  shoves  on 
the  brake  with  sech  abandon  I  snaps  the  shank 
short  off.' 

"  'Wharever  is  this  Oscar  party?'  asks  En- 
right. 


'IT'S   YOU,    OSCAR,    THAT   I   WANT,"      OBSERVES   MISS   BARK.       "l    CONCLOODES,    UPON 
SOBER    SECOND    THOUGHT,    TO    ACCEPT    YOUR    OFFER    OF    MARRIAGE."         p.    93. 


Cynthiana,  Pet-named  Original  Sin     93 

*  'He's  with  me  on  the  box;  an'  when  this 
yere  intrepid  Miss  Bark  takes  to  dom'neerin' 
at  us  with  that  rifle  he  collapses.  "It's  you, 
Oscar,"  observes  this  Miss  Bark,  shiftin' 
the  muzzle  to  him.  "Upon  second  thought 
I  concloods  to  accept  your  offer  of  mar 
riage." 

'Which  at  that  crisis,'  remarks  Peets,  'this 
Oscar  of  course  breaks  into  loud  an'  joyful 
cries.' 

'  'Not  exactly.  In  fact,  his  tones  if  any 
thing  is  some  low-sperited.  "I  takes  it,"  he 
says,  when  he's  able  to  command  his  feelin's, 
"that  you  declines  them  proffers  with  your 
Winchester  at  the  time  when  made."  But  the 
lady  dismisses  this  as  a  quibble,  an'  merely 
sayin'  that  she  won't  be  paltered  with  no 
farther,  orders  Oscar  an'  the  Bible  sharp  who's 
ridin'  inside  to  assemble  by  the  edge  of  the 
trail.  The  Bible  sharp  attempts  to  lay  the 
foundations  of  fresh  objections  by  askin'  Oscar 
does  he  do  this  of  his  own  free  will;  but  the 
muzzle  of  the  Winchester — which  the  bride  all 
along  reetains  in  her  hands — begins  movin' 
'round  in  his  direction,  observin'  which  man'- 
festation  he  pronounces  'em  husband  an'  wife. 


94          Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

"What  heaven  has  j'ined  together,"  says  he, 
"let  no  man  put  asunder."  After  which  he 
blesses  'em,  an'  reeports  the  last  cinch  fastened. 
"Pay  him,  Oscar,"  whispers  the  bride.  Whar- 
upon  Oscar,  his  fingers  tremblin',  squars  the 
Bible  sharp  with  the  price  of  a  brace  of  steers, 
an'  the  deed  is  done.  Now  he's  hers  for  better 
or  worse,  she  ropes  his  heels  together  onder  the 
belly  of  her  lead  boss,  an'  the  happy  pa'r  goes 
romancin'  back  for  Wolfville,  while  I  kicks 
loose  what's  left  of  the  brake  an'  p'ints  out 
ag'in  for  Tucson.' 

"On  the  third  day,  by  givin'  his  parole  an' 
promising  to  fondly  reeport  to  his  spouse  once 
every  hour,  Oscar  is  permitted  to  go  reecreatin' 
about  the  camp. 

"  'Only,'  says  the  lady,  by  way  of  warnin' 
to  Black  Jack,  'thar's  to  be  no  drinks.' 

"These  yere  strained  conditions  preevails 
for  mebby  it's  five  days,  when,  as  the  stage 
swings  in  to  the  post  office  one  evenin',  a  stout 
florid  old  gent  gets  out.  He  comes  puffin'  up 
to  Peets  a  heap  soopercilious. 

"  'Do  you-all  know  a  addle-pated  an'  semi- 
eediotic  young  party,'  says  he,  'who's  named 
Oscar  Freelinghuysen?' 


Cynthiana,  Pet-named  Original  Sin     95 

"  'Why,  yes,'  returns  Peets,  'I  do.  Onless 
my  mem'ry's  pulled  its  picket  pin  an'  gone 
plumb  astray  he's  the  eboolient  sharp  who  eon- 
clooded  a  somewhat  toomultuous  courtship 
last  week  by  gettin'  married.  He's  in  the 
shank  of  his  honeymoon  as  we  stands  chattin' 
yere.' 

"The  florid  gent  glares  at  Peets,  his  fea- 
chures  the  color  of  liver,  his  eyes  stickin'  out 
like  the  eyes  of  a  snail. 

"  'Married !'  he  gasps,  an'  falls  in  a  apoplec 
tic  fit. 

"It  takes  a  week  an'  all  the  drugs  Peets  has 
got  before  that  apoplectic's  able  to  sit  up  an' 
call  for  nosepaint.  An'  whatever  do  you 
think?  His  daughter-in-law,  but  onbeknownsts 
to  him  as  sech,  nurses  him  from  soda  to  hock. 
Oscar  Joonior?  By  advice  of  Enright  that 
prodigal's  took  to  cover  over  in  Red  Dog  ontil 
we've  made  shore  about  the  fatted  calf. 

"The  former  Miss  Bark  puts  up  that  nurs- 
in'  game  with  Peets,  an'  day  an'  night  she 
hangs  over  her  apoplectic  father-in-law  like  a 
painter  over  a  picture.  She's  certainly  as  cun- 
nin'  as  a  pet  fox!  She  dresses  as  quiet  as  a 
quail  an'  makes  her  voice  as  softly  sober  as  a 


96  Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

suckin'  dove's.  In  the  end  she's  got  that  pa 
tient  hypnotized. 

"After  Peets  declar's  him  out  of  danger,  an' 
all  propped  up  in  his  blankets  he's  subscribed 
to  mighty  likely  it's  the  fifth  drink,  the  apo 
plectic  begins  to  shed  tears  a  heap  prof  oose,  an' 
relate  to  his  nurse — the  former  Miss  Bark — 
how  his  two  wives  has  died,  leavin'  him  a  lonely 
man.  She,  the  former  Miss  Bark,  is  his  only 
friend — he  says — an'  he  winds  up  his  lamen 
tations  by  recommendin'  that  she  become  his 
third. 

"  'You're  the  only  hooman  heart  who  ever 
onderstands  me,'  he  wails,  gropin'  for  her 
hand,  'an'  now  my  ongrateful  boy  has  con 
tracted  a  messalliance  I  shore  wants  you  for 
my  wife.' 

"She  hangs  her  head  like  a  flower  at  night, 
an'  lets  on  she's  a  heap  confoosed. 

"  'Speak,'  he  pleads;  'tell  me  that  you'll  be 
mine.' 

'"Which  I'd  shore  admire  to,  but  I 
can't,'  she  murmurs;  'I'm  wedded  to  your 
son.' 

"The  old  apoplectic  asks  for  more  licker  in 
a  dazed  way,  an'  sends  for  Peets.  The  Doc  an' 


Cynihiana,  Pet-named  Original  Sin     97 

him  goes  into  execyootive  session  for  most  an 
hour;  meanwhile  the  camp's  on  edge. 

"At  the  close  the  Doc  eemerges  plumb  radi 
ant. 

'  'Everything's  on  velvet,'  he  says ;  'thar's 
never  a  more  joodicious  convalescent.  He 
freely  admits,  considerin'  the  sort  of  daughter- 
in-law  he's  acquired,  that  Oscar  has  more  sense 
than  folks  suspects.' 

"Now  that  the  skies  is  cl'ared,  the  bride 
groom  is  fetched  back  from  Red  Dog,  an' 
thar's  a  grand  reeconciliation. 

"  'We'll  all  go  back  East  together,'  sobs 
father-in-law  Freelinghuysen,  holdin'  both 
their  hands. 

"Two  days  later  they  starts,  Missis  Free 
linghuysen  Joonier  lookin'  after  father-in-law 
Freelinghuysen  same  as  if  he's  a  charlotte 
roosse. 

"The  Votes  For  Women  S'loon? 

"It's  kept  a  secret,  at  Feet's  su'gestion,  him 
bein'  apoplectic  that  a-way.  The  stock  is 
bought  by  public  subscription  of  the  camp,  an* 
when  the  Freelinghuysen  household  is  out  of 
sight  an'  hearin'  we  invites  Red  Dog  over  in  a 
body  an'  onbelts  in  a  mod'rate  orgy.  The  sign, 


98          Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

*  Votes  For  Women  S'loon,'  is  now  preeserved 
in  the  custody  of  the  Wolfville  Historical  So 
ciety,  which  body  is  called  into  active  bein' 
upon  motion  of  Peets,  while  Red  Dog  an'  us 
is  drinkin'  up  the  stock." 


IV 

OLD   MONTE,   OFFICIAL   DRUNKARD 

"Shore;  Monte's  the  offishul  drunkard  of 
Arizona."  The  old  cattleman  was  answer 
ing  my  question.  "Or,  seem'  that  mebby 
Wolfville's  joorisdiction  won't  be  held  none  to 
reach  beyond,  let's  say  the  offishul  drunkard  of 
Cochise  County.  That's  Monte's  civic  desig 
nation;  offishul  drunkard,  an'  meant  to  fix  his 
social  place. 

"Does  he  resent  it? 

"Which  he  proudly  w'ars  that  title  like  it's 
a  kingly  crown!  It's  as  good  as  even  money 
that  to  ondertake  to  sep'rate  him  from  it,  or 
deny  the  same,  is  the  one  single  thing  he  bris 
tles  up  at  an'  give  you  a  battle  over. 

"Which  this  yere  last  should  mean  a  heap, 
since  Monte's  plumb  pacific  by  nacher,  an' 
abhors  war  to  the  mean  confines  of  bein'  timid. 
To  be  shore,  he'll  steam  at  the  nose,  an'  paw 
the  sod,  an'  act  like  he's  out  to  spread  rooin 
far  an'  wide — that  he's  doo  to  leave  everything 

99 


100        Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

in  front  of  him  on  both  sides  of  the  road.  But 
in  them  perf  ervid  man'f  estations  he  don't  reely 
intend  nothin'  either  high  or  heenious,  or 
more'n  jest  to  give  his  se'f -respect  an  outing 
that  a- way.  Let  the  opp'sition  call  him  down, 
an'  the  crafty  old  cimmaron'll  go  to  the  dis- 
kyard  instanter. 

"Which  at  that,  Monte  ain't  without  his 
interestin'  side.  When  onder  the  inflooence 
of  nosepaint,  which  last  is  constant,  he  has 
three  distinct  moods.  About  the  fo'th  drink, 
let  a  stranger  show  up,  an' — all  aff'ble  an' 
garyoolous — Monte's  right  thar  to  do  the 
honors.  When  the  stranger,  gettin'  weary, 
kicks  Monte  off  him,  the  same  bein'  shore 
to  happen  final  since  no  one  formed  in  the 
image  of  his  Maker  can  put  up  with  them 
verbal  imbeciFties  of  his  beyond  a  given  len'th 
of  time,  he'll  arch  his  back  an' — apparently — 
wax  that  f 'rocious  a  wronged  grizzly  to  him  is 
as  meek  as  milk.  An'  yet,  as  I  tells  you,  it's 
simply  a  blazer;  an'  the  moment  the  exasper 
ated  stranger  begins  betrayin'  symptoms  of 
goin'  to  a  showdown,  Monte  lapses  into 
his  third  mood  of  haughty  silence,  an'  struts 
off  like  it's  beneath  him  to  bandy  words. 


Old  Monte,  •Official .  Dnmkard       101 


"That's  the  savin'  clause  in  Monte's  con- 
stitootion;  he  may  get  drunk,  but  he  never 
gets  injoodicious.  Thar's  a  sport  from  some- 
'ers  over  'round  Shakespear  in  the  dance  hall 
one  evenin',  whose  patience  has  been  plenty 
treespassed  on  by  Monte.  By  way  of 
bringin5  matters  to  a  deecisive  head,  this  yere 
Shakespear  party  tells  Monte  he's  a  liar. 
Do  you  reckon  Monte  hooks  up  with  him? 
Not  a  chance!  He  simply  casts  on  that  ma- 
ligner  from  Shakespear  a  look  of  disparage 
ment,  an'  with  nose  held  high,  as  markin'  his 
contempt,  moves  away  with  the  remark. 

'That's  something   I  refooses  to  discuss 
with  you.' 

"Which  thar's  no  more  real  p'isin  in  Monte 
than  in  a  hired  girl. 

"We  has  the  chance  once  to  try  some  ex 
periments  on  Monte,  an'  it's  the  mistake 
of  our  lives  we  don't.  Peets,  whose  regrets  is 
scientific,  feels  speshully  acoote.  Thar's  a  par- 
tic'lar  bar'l  of  nosepaint  gets  trundled  into 
camp,  which  is  nothin'  short  of  bein'  the  con 
densed  essence  of  hostility.  Black  Jack,  after 
years  as  barkeep,  says  himse'f  he  never  sees 
nothin'  like  it.  On  the  hocks  of  two  drinks, 


102         Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 


folks  gets  that  ornery  Enright  has  it  freighted 
back  to  Tucson  in  alarm,  f earin'  for  the  peace 
of  the  camp.  At  the  time,  none  of  us  thinks 
of  it;  but  later  it's  a  subject  of  gen'ral  regret 
that  some  of  it  ain't  saved  to  try  on  Monte. 
Mebby  that  speshul  brand  of  licker  turns  out 
to  be  the  missin'  ingreedient,  an'  keys  him  up 
to  deeds  of  heroism. 

"Jest  to  show  you  some  of  the  milder  work- 
in's  of  that  licker.  Boggs  files  away  four 
inches  of  it  onder  his  belt,  an'  next,  when  he's 
walkin'  by  the  corral  an'  meets  a  Mexican,  he 
reaches  out  in  a  casyooal  an'  abstracted  way, 
collars  that  Greaser  an'  hefts  him  over  a  six- 
foot  'dobe  fence,  same  as  if  he's  a  bag  of  bran ; 
an'  all  apropos  of  nothin'.  Boggs  says  himse'f 
he  don't  know  why  none.  He's  thinkin'  of 
something  else  at  the  time,  he  declar's,  an'  the 
eepisode  don't  leave  no  partic'lar  traces  on  his 
mem'ry.  The  trooth  is,  it's  that  veehement  an' 
onmuzzled  nosepaint,  incitin'  him  to  voylence. 

"Is  the  Mexican  hurt? 

"Which,  if  I  remembers  rightly,  Peets  does 
mention  about  a  busted  collarbone.  But  it 
don't  create  no  interest — him  bein'  a  Mexican. 
You  see,  thar's  a  feelin',  amountin'  fa'rly  to  a 


Old  Monte,  Official  Drunkard       103 

onwritten  law,  that  Mexicans  ain't  got  no 
rightful  call  to  be  seen  in  public  no  how;  an' 
when  one  does  go  pirootin'  round  permiscus, 
in  voylation  of  this  yere  tenet,  nacherally  he 
takes  his  chances.  You-all  can  gamble,  though, 
that  Boggs  shore  never  would  have  reached 
for  him,  only  he's  actchooated  by  that  whiskey. 

"As  modest  an'  retirin'  a  sperit  as  Cherokee, 
to  whom  any  form  of  boastful  bluff  is  plumb 
reepellant,  subscribes  to  a  mod'rate  snifter  of 
that  licker;  an'  in  less  time  than  it  takes  to 
rope  a  pony,  he's  out  in  front  of  the  Red 
Light,  onbucklin'  in  a  display  of  pistol  shoot- 
in'.  Thar's  a  brace  of  towerists  in  camp,  an' 
Cherokee  let's  on  he'll  show  'em.  Which  he 
shore  shows  'em!  He  tosses  two  tomatter  cans 
on  high,  an'  with  a  gun  in  each  hand  keeps  'em 
dancin'  an'  jumpin'  about  in  the  atmosphere 
ontil  thar's  six  bullets  through  each.  It's  a 
heap  satisfyin'  as  a  performance,  as  far  as 
them  pop-eyed  towerists  is  concerned,  an'  both 
leaves  town  that  evenin'  by  speshul  buckboard. 

"Onaffected  by  that  licker,  Cherokee 
wouldn't  have  no  more  gone  an'  'made  sech  a 
spectacle  of  himse'f,  though  urged  tharunto 
by  the  yoonanimous  voice  of  the  outfit.  When 


104        Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

he  so  far  recovers  as  to  'ppreeciate  what  Faro 
Nell  has  to  say  of  them  exploits — an',  while 
tender,  she's  plenty  explicit — he  comes  mighty 
clost  to  blushin'  himse'f  to  death. 

"It's  after  we  notes  what  it  does  to  Cher 
okee,  an'  hears  of  them  exhibitions  of  broote 
force  by  Boggs,  that  we  gets  timid  about  this 
yere  whisky,  an'  Enright  orders  the  bar'l  sent 
back.  An'  right  he  is!  S'ppose  them  Red 
Dogs  was  to  have  come  prancin'  over  for  a  so 
cial  call,  an'  s'ppose  in  entertainin'  'em  we  all 
inadvertent  has  recourse  to  that  partic'lar 
licker,  whatever  do  you-all  reckon  'd  have  been 
the  finish?  Son,  thar'd  have  been  one  of  them 
things  they  calls  a  eatyclism,  an'  nothin'  short. 

"It's  shore  a  fightin'  form  of  licker. 
Tutt  reeserves  out  a  tin  cup  of  it,  an'  sets  it 
down  by  a  prairie  dog's  hole.  Accordin'  to 
Tutt,  the  dog  comes  out,  laps  it  once,  an'  starts 
back  same  as  if  he's  been  shot  with  a  '45.  Thar 
he  squats,  battin'  his  eyes,  wrinklin'  up  his 
nose,  an'  cogitatin'.  After  thinkin'  the  thing 
over,  the  dog  approaches,  mighty  gingerly,  an' 
takes  three  or  four  more  laps.  Then  he  r'ars 
back,  an'  considers  for  quite  a  spell.  It  looks 
final  like  he  gets  his  mind  made  up,  an'  with 


Old  Monte,  Official  Drunkard       105 

that  he  capers  over,  an'  he'ps  himse'f  to  what 
for  a  prairie  dog  is  shore  a  big  drink. 

"Two  minutes  later,  ha'r  bristlin',  whiskers 
standin'  out  like  wire,  eyes  full  of  determina 
tion,  that  dog  crosses  over  to  another  dog 
who's  livin'  neighbor  to  him,  an'  says — accord- 
in'  to  Tutt: 

"  'Wharever  can  I  locate  that  coyote  who's 
been  domineerin'  round  yere  for  mebby  it's  a 
month,  harassin'  folks  into  their  holes? 
Whar's  that  coyote  at?' 

"Peets  allers  allows  Tutt  exaggerates,  but 
bavin*  sampled  that  licker  some  myse'f,  I'm  a 
long  ride  from  bein'  so  shore. 

"That  lack  of  war  instinct  in  Monte 
ain't  no  speecific  drawback.  Him  drivin'  stage 
that  a-way,  he  ain't  expected  none  to  fight. 
The  hold-ups  onderstands  it,  the  company  on- 
derstands  it,  everybody  onderstands  it.  It's 
the  law  of  the  trail.  That's  why,  when  the 
stage  is  stopped,  the  driver's  never  downed. 
Which  if  thar's  money  aboard,  an'  the  express 
outfit  wants  it  defended,  they  slams  on  some 
sport  to  ride  shotgun  that  trip.  It's  for  this 
shotgun  speshulist  to  give  the  route  agents  an 
argyooment.  Which  they're  licensed  to  go 


106        Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

bombardin'  each  other  ontil  the  goin'  down  of 
the  sun.  As  for  the  driver,  however,  the  eti- 
kette  simply  calls  for  him  to  set  his  brake,  an' 
all  peaceful  hold  his  hands  above  his  head.  It's 
inside  his  rights,  too,  accordin'  to  the  rooles, 
for  him  to  cuss  out  the  holdups,  an'  call  'em 
all  the  hard  names  of  which  he's  cap'ble;  an' 
stage  drivers,  who  loves  their  art,  spends  their 
time  between  drinks  practisin'  new  cuss  words, 
an'  inventin'  onheard  of  epithets,  so  as  to  be 
ready  when  dooty  an'  o'casion  calls.  Havin' 
downed  or  driven  off  the  shotgun  sport,  an' 
seen  the  bottom  of  the  express  box,  the  hold 
ups  tells  the  stage  driver  to  pull  his  freight. 
Wharupon  he  picks  up  the  reins,  kicks  free  the 
brake,  lets  fly  a  loorid  an'  final  broadside  of 
vitooperation — he  havin'  carefully  reeserved 
the  same,  by  way  of  peroration — an'  goes  his 
windin'  way. 

"Wolfville's  been  on  the  map  for  most  a 
year,  when  Monte  first  shows  up.  In  the 
beginnin',  an'  ontil  we-all  gets  adjusted  to 
him,  he's  something  of  a  bore.  Leastwise,  he 
ain't  what  you'd  go  so  far  as  to  call  a  boon 
companion.  When  it  dawns  on  us  that  he's 
plottin'  to  make  himse'f  a  permanency,  it  cer- 


Old  Monte,  Official  Drunkard       107 

tainly  does  look  for  a  spell  that,  what  with  his 
consumption  of  nosepaint  an*  what  with  his 
turrific  genius  for  snorin',  he's  goin'  to  be  a 
trifle  more'n  we  can  stand. 

"Does  Monte  snore? 

"Not  to  create  ondoo  excitement,  the  bar'- 
foot  onclothed  trooth  is  that  his  snorin'  falls 
nothin'  short  of  bein'  sinful.  Boggs  has  plenty; 
of  countenance  when  he  brings  them  snores  to 
the  attention  of  Enright. 

"  "Thar's  shore  a  limit  somewhar,  Sam/ 
Boggs  says,  'to  this  yere  drunkard's  right  to 
snore.  Which  he's  simply  keepin'  everybody 
over  to  the  O.  K.  House  settin'  up.  Onless 
something's  done  to  check  him,  thar'll  be  a  epi 
demic  of  St.  Vitus  dance.  You  ask  Doc 
Peets ;  he'll  tell  you  that  this  yere  Monte  with 
his  snorin'  is  a  scourge.' 

"It's  not  alone  their  volume,  but  their  qual 
ity,  which  makes  them  snores  of  Monte  so 
ondesir'ble.  Some  folks  snores  a  heap  depre 
catory,  an'  like  they're  apol'gizin'  for  it  as  they 
goes  along.  Others  snores  in  a  manner  ca'mly 
confident,  an'  all  as  though  the  idee  that  any 
gent  objects  would  astonish  'em  to  death.  Still 
others  snores  plumb  deefiant,  an'  like  they 


108        Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

ain't  snorin'  so  much  for  comfort,  that  a-way, 
as  to  show  their  contempt  for  mankind.  It's 
to  this  yere  latter  hostile  school  that  drunkard, 
Monte,  belongs. 

"After  Boggs  lodges  complaint,  Enright 
takes  a  corrective  peek  into  the  sityooation. 
Thar's  two  rooms  over  the  O.  K.  kitchen,  sort 
o'  off  by  themselves.  Upon  Enright's  hint, 
Missis  Rucker  beds  down  Monte  in  one,  an' 
Deef  Andy,  who  mends  harness  for  the  stage 
company  an'  can't  hear  nothin',  in  the 
other. 

6  'It's  for  the  safety  of  your  excellent  car- 
'vansary,  Ma'am,'  Enright  explains.  'Which 
Dan's  mighty  easy  moved;  an'  some  mornin', 
onless  you  adopts  them  improvements,  that 
somnolent  sot  you're  harborin'  '11  go  too  far 
with  Dan.  I  takes  it  you-all  don't  want  the 
shack  all  smoked  up  with  Dan's  six-shooter? 
In  which  event  you'll  put  that  reverberant 
drunkard  in  the  far-corner  room,  with  Andy 
next.' 

"Peets  once  mentions  a  long-ago  poet  party, 
named  Johnson,  who,  speakin'  of  a  fellow  poet 
after  he's  dead  an'  down  onder  the  grass-roots, 
lets  on  that  he  teches  nothin'  he  don't  adorn. 


Old  Monte,  Official  Drunkard       109 

You  can  go  your  ultimate  simoleon  that  ain't 
Monte's  style.  The  only  things  he  don't 
upset  is  bottles ;  the  only  flooid  he  never  spills 
is  licker.  This  yere  last  would  be  ag'inst  his 
religion.  Wharever  he  goes,  he's  otherwise 
draggin'  his  rope,  an'  half  the  time  he's  step- 
pin'  on  it. 

"It's  him  that  coaxes  that  onhappy  Polish 
picture  painter  our  way.  This  yere  is  long 
after  he's  drivin'  stage,  an'  as  Wolfville's  offi- 
shul  drunkard  becomes  a  tol'rated  feachure  of 
the  camp.  This  Polish  artist  person  is  as  much 
out  o'  place  in  Arizona  as  a  faro  layout  at  a 
Sunday  school  picnic.  Monte  crosses  up 
with  him  over  at  Tucson  in  the  Oriental 
S'loon,  an'  while  thar's  no  ties  between  'em, 
more'n  what  nacherally  forms  between  two 
gents  who  sets  drinkin'  together  all  night  long, 
before  ever  they're  through  with  each  other 
that  inspired  inebriate  lands  the  locoed  artist 
party  on  our  hands.  Enright  shore  does  go 
the  limit  in  rebookin'  Monte. 

"  'Why,  Sam,'  says  Monte,  an'  he's  that 
depreecatory  he  whines,  *I  allows  you'll  look 
on  him  as  a  acquisition.' 

"  'All  the   same,'   returns  Enright,  an'   I 


110        Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

never  knows  him  more  forbidding  'yereafter 
please  confine  your  annoyin'  assidooities  to 
drivin'  stage,  an'  don't  go  tryin'  to  improve 
the  outlook  of  this  camp.' 

"Monte,  with  this,  gets  that  dismal  he 
sheds  tears.  'Which  it  shore  looks  like  I  can't 
do  nothin'  right,'  he  sobs. 

"  'Then  don't,'  says  Enright. 

"From  the  start,  Monte  graves  himse'f 
upon  the  mem'ry  of  folk  as  the  first  sport,  to 
enroll  his  blankets  in  Cochise  County,  who 
consoomes  normal  over  twenty  drinks  a  day. 
Upon  festal  occasions  like  Noo  Year's,  an' 
Christmas,  an'  Fo'th  of  Jooly,  an'  Thanks- 
givin',  no  gent  who  calls  himse'f  a  gent  thinks 
of  keepin'  tabs  on  a  fellow  gent,  no  matter 
how  freequent  he  signs  up  to  Black  Jack.  On 
gala  o'casions,  sech  as  them  noted,  the  bridle 
is  plumb  off  the  hoss,  an'  even  though  you 
drinks  to  your  capac'ty  an'  some  beyond,  no 
one's  that  vulgar  as  to  go  makin'  remarks. 
But  that  ain't  Monte;  he's  different  a  heap. 
It  looks  like  every  day  is  Fo'th  of  Jooly  with 
him,  he's  that  inveterate  in  his  reemorseless 
hankerin'  for  nosepaint. 

"Also,    regyarded    as    to    his    social    side, 


Old  Monte,  Official  Drunkard       111 

Monte,  as  I  states  former,  is  a  nooisance. 
Knowin'  folks,  too,  is  his  fad.  Only  so  you 
give  him  licker  enough,  he'll  go  surgin'  round 
accostin'  every  gent  he  sees.  No  matter  how 
austere  a  stranger  is,  Monte'll  tackle  him. 
An'  at  that  he  never  says  nothin'  worth  hear- 
in',  an'  in  its  total  absence  of  direction  his  con 
versation  resembles  nothin'  so  much  as  a  dog 
chasin'  its  tail. 

"An'  then  thar's  them  footile  bluffs  he's  al- 
lers  tryin'  to  run.  He's  been  pesterin'  in  an' 
out  of  the  Red  Light  one  evenin'  ontil  he's  got 
Black  Jack  incensed.  As  he  comes  squander- 
in'  along,  for  say  the  twentieth  time,  Black 
Jack  groans,  an'  murmurs, 

'Yere's   that   booze-soaked   old   hossthief 
ag'in!' 

"Monte  gets  the  echo  of  it,  same  as 
folks  allers  does  when  it  ain't  wanted,  but  he's 
enable  to  say  who.  So  he  stands  thar  by  the 
bar,  glarin'  'round  an'  snortin'.  Final,  he 
roars : 

'Who  cuts  loose  that  personally  ?' 

"Thar  ain't  no  answer,  an'  Monte  ag'in 
takes  to  pitchin'  on  his  rope. 

"  'Show  me  the  galoot  who  insults  me,'  he 


112         Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

roars ;  'let  him  no  longer  dog  it,  but  p'int  him- 
se'f  out  as  the  gent.' 

"  'All  right/  says  Black  Jack,  whose  indig 
nation  gets  the  best  of  his  reespons'bilities  as 
barkeep,  'which  I'm  the  party  who  alloodes  to 
you  as  a  booze-soaked  old  hossthief.' 

"  'An'  so  you're  the  gent,'  says  Monte, 
castin'  a  witherin'  glance  at  Black  Jack;  'so 
you're  the  would-be  sooicide  who  calls  me  a 
booze-soaked  old  hossthief  ?' 

"  'Which  I'm  the  identical  stingin'  lizard. 
Now  what  is  it  you're  so  plumb  eager  to  say?' 
'What  am  I  eager  to  say?  I  merely  wants 
to  remark  that  you  ain't  done  nothin'  to  swell 
up  over.  You-all  needn't  go  thinkin'  you're 
the  first  barkeep  who  calls  me  a  booze-soaked 
old  hossthief.' 

"Havin'  la'nched  this  yere,  Monte  turns 
off  as  stiffly  pompous  as  though  he  ain't  left  a 
grease-spot  of  Black  Jack. 

"When  folks  won't  listen  to  him  no  longer, 
Monte  goes  bulgin'  forth  into  the  highways 
an'  the  byways,  an'  holds  long  an'  important 
discussions  with  signs,  an'  dry-goods  boxes,  an' 
sim'lar  inan'mate  elements  of  the  landscape. 
Also,  to  mules  an'  burros.  I  remarks  him  my- 


Old  Monte,  Official  Drunkard       113 

se'f,  whisperin'  in  the  onregyardful  y'ear  of  a 
burro,  an'  said  anamile  as  sound  asleep  as  a 
tree.  When  that  drunkard's  through  his  con 
fidences,  he  backs  off,  an'  wavin'  his  paw 
plumb  myster'ous  at  the  burro  says : 

*  'Remember,  now;  I'm  givin'  you  this  yere 
p'inter  as  a  friend.' 

"That  time  Black  Jack  offends  Monte, 
after  the  latter  hits  the  sidewalk  f ollowin'  what 
he  clar'ly  considers  is  his  crushin'  come-back 
on  Black  Jack,  he  gets  the  feelin'  that  Jack's 
ha'ntin'  along  on  his  trail.  Before  he's  gone 
fifty  foot,  he  w'irls  about,  an'  shouts: 

*  'Don't  you-all  follow  me!    Which,  if  you 
crowds  me,  them  places  that  has  knowed  you 
won't  know  you  no  more  forever.' 

"When  Monte  gets  off  this  menace,  it 
seems  like  the  Black  Jack  specter  becomes  in- 
tim'dated,  an'  tries  to  squar'  itse'f. 

"'What's  that?'  Monte  asks,  after  listen- 
in'  mighty  dignified  to  the  spook's  excuses; 
'you  begs  my  pardon?  Not  another  word.  If 
you-all  keeps  on  talkin'  now  you'll  sp'ile  it. 
Thar's  my  hand,'  givin'  the  fingers  of  the 
phantom  a  mighty  earnest  squeeze.  'I'm  your 
friend,  an'  that  goes.' 


114        Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

"Havin5  established  a  peace,  Monte  in 
sists  that  the  Black  Jack  phantom  b'ar  him 
company  to  the  O.  K.  Restauraw.  In  spite  of 
all  Missis  Rucker  can  say  or  do,  he  plants  the 
spook  at  the  table,  feeds  it  on  the  best  that's 
in  the  kitchen,  an'  all  as  confident  as  if  it's 
shorely  troo.  Also,  he  insists  on  payin'  for 
two. 

"When  Missis  Rucker  tries  to  show  him  he's 
down  wrong,  he  refooses  to  have  it  that  way. 

"  'Do  you-all  reckon,  Ma'am,  that  I  can't 
trust  my  eyes  none?'  he  demands.  'Which 
you'll  tell  me  next  that  them  airtights  I  tops 
of  with  is  figments.' 

"  'But  thar's  only  one  of  you-all,'  Missis 
Rucker  persists. 

"  'Ma'am,'  returns  Monte,  his  manner 
plumb  s'picious,  'I  don't  jest  quite  sense  your 
little  game.  Whatever  it  is,  however,  you-all 
can't  play  it  on  old  Monte.  You  write  back 
to  my  fam'ly  an'  the  neighbors,  an'  the  least 
flatterin'  among  'em'll  tell  you  that  I'm  as 
cunnin'  as  a  squinch  owl.  Thar's  two  of  us 
who  feeds,  an'  for  two  of  us  I  settles.  Bein'  a 
woman,  you're  too  f eeble-witted  for  reason,  too 
mendacious  for  trooth.' 


Old  Monte,  Official  Drunkard       115 

"  'Don't  you  go  callin'  me  no  woman,'  says 
Missis  Rucker,  her  eyes  snappin',  'onless 
you're  ready  to  cash  in.' 

"'Women!'  repeats  Monte,  sort  o'  ad- 
dressin'  the  scenery,  but  still  plenty  cynical, 
'what  be  they  except  a  fleetin'  show  to  man's 
deloosion  given.  Also,  thar's  nothin'  to  'em. 
You  opens  their  front  door,  an'  you're  in  their 
back  yard.' 

"Texas  has  been  givin'  y'ear  to  the  talk. 
It's  before  his  Laredo  wife  starts  ropin'  for 
that  divorce;  but  she's  already  makin'  war 
medicine,  an'  the  signs  an'  signal  smokes  which 
p'int  to  an  uprisin'  is  vis'ble  on  every  hill. 
Texas  is  careful  not  to  let  Missis  Rucker 
hear  him  none,  but  as  he  walks  away,  he 
mutters : 

"  'That  ghost-seein'  sport's  got  the  treemors, 
but  all  the  same  I  strings  with  him  on  them 
estimates  of  ladies.' 

"Texas  is  that  fav'rably  affected  about 
Monte,  he  talks  things  over  with  Tutt,  who 
himse'f  ain't  married  to  Tucson  Jennie  none 
as  yet.  Them  nuptials,  an'  that  onbiased  bles- 
sin',  little  Enright  Peets  Tutt,  who  results 
tharfrom,  comes  along  later. 


116        Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

"  'Which  thar's  good  in  that  Monte  maver 
ick,'  says  Texas;  'only  so  we  could  get  the 
nosepaint  out  of  him.' 

"  'Now,  I  wouldn't  wonder  none,  neither,' 
says  Tutt. 

"  'He  drinkt  up  two  quarts  an'  a  half  yes 
terday,'  says  Texas. 

'  'Ain't  thar  no  steps  which  can  be  took?' 
Tutt  asks.  'Two  quarts  an'  a  half,  though, 
shore  sounds  like  he's  somethin'  of  a  prop'si- 
tion.' 

"These  yere  remarks  is  made  in  the  Red 
Light,  an'  Tutt  an'  Texas  appeals  to  Chero 
kee,  whar  that  courtier  of  fortune  is  settin'  in 
behind  his  lay-out.  Cherokee  waves  'em  off, 
p'lite  but  firm. 

"  'Don't  ask  me  none,'  he  says.  'You-all 
knows  my  doctrines.  Let  every  gent  kill  his 
own  snakes.' 

"  'That's  my  theology,'  remarks  Boggs,  who 
has  just  come  ramblin'  in  from  the  Noo  York 
store,  whar  he's  been  changin'  in  a  bundle  of 
money  for  shirts;  'I  recalls  how,  when  I'm  a 
prattlin'  yearlin',  hearin'  Parson  Ed'ards  of 
the  Cambellite  Church  quotin'  whar  Cain  gives 
it  out  cold  that  he's  not  his  brother's  keeper; 


Old  Monte,  Official  Drunkard       117 

an'  even  at  that  onthinkin'  age  I  fully  endorses 
Cain's  p'sition.' 

"The  talk  takes  in  Black  Jack,  who,  by  vir- 
choo  of  him  bein'  a  barkeep,  nacherally  savvys 
a  heap  about  the  licker  question.  Jack  reelates 
how  a  sot  he  knows  back  in  Arkansaw  is 
shocked  into  never  takin'  a  drink,  by  simply 
blowin'  his  hand  off  accidental  while  tanked 
up. 

'Whang!  goes  the  old  Betsy,'  says  Jack, 
'an'  that  slave  to  licker's  shy  his  left  hand. 
"Which  it  lets  me  out!"  he  exclaims;  an'  datin' 
from  said  catastrophy  he'd  no  more  tech  nose- 
paint,  that  a-way,  than  he'd  join  the  church.' 

"  'But  it's  doubtful,'  observes  Tutt,  'if  En- 
right  stands  to  let  us  shoot  this  yere  Monte 
drunkard's  hand  off.' 

"  'It's  ten  to  one  he  won't,'  says  Texas;  'still 
thar  ought  to  be  other  schemes  for  shockin'  a 
party  into  moral'ty,  which  stops  short  o'  crip- 
plin'  him  for  life.' 

'  'But  is  this  yere  inebriate  worth  the  wor 
ry?'  asks  Boggs.  'Also,  it  shore  strikes  me  as 
mighty  gratooitous  for  us  to  go  reorganizin' 
the  morals  of  a  plumb  stranger,  an'  him  not 
even  asked.' 


118        Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

'Which  he's  worth  the  worry  all  right,' 
Texas  replies.  'Thar's  no  efforts  too  great, 
when  thar's  a  chance  to  save  a  party  who  has 
the  same  thorough  onderstandin'  of  ladies 
which  this  gent  has.' 

"Up  over  the  Red  Light  bar  is  a  stuffed 
bobcat,  the  same  bein'  held  as  decorative. 
Only  the  day  before  Texas  and  Tutt  stands 
talking  a  couple  of  Enright's  riders  comes 
packin'  a  live  bobcat  into  town,  which  between 
'em  they  ropes  up  over  in  the  foothills  of  the 
Tres  Hermanas,  an'  jams  labor'ously  into  a 
pa'r  of  laiggin's.  The  same  idee  seizes  on 
Texas  an'  Tutt  yoonanimous.  They  sees  that 
it  only  calls  for  the  intelligent  use  of  that 
Bar-8  bobcat,  which  them  cow-punchers  of 
Enright's  ties  down,  to  reegen'rate  Monte,  an' 
make  him  white  as  snow. 

"Monte's  ain't  present  none,  bein'  over 
to  the  O.  K.  House.  By  bein'  plumb  pains- 
takin',  Tutt  an'  Texas  gets  a  collar  onto  the 
captive  Bar-8  bobcat,  an'  chains  him  up  over 
the  Red  Light  bar,  in  place  of  the  stuffed  bob 
cat,  deeposed.  The  Bar-8  bobcat  jumps  off 
once  or  twict  before  he  learns,  an'  comes 
mighty  clost  to  lynchin'  himse'f.  But  Black 


A  COUPLE  OF  ENRIGHT'S  RIDERS  COMES  A  PACKIN'  A  LIVE  BOB-CAT  INTO 

TOWN.  p,  118. 


Old  Monte,  Official  Drunkard       119 

Jack  is  patient,  an'  each  time  pokes  him  back 
with  a  cha'r.  After  mebby  the  third  jump, 
it  gets  proned  into  the  bobcat  that  thar's  noth- 
in'  in  it  for  him  to  go  hurlin'  himse'f  into  space 
that  a-way,  an'  bein'  saved  from  death  by 
hangin'  only  through  the  cha'r-laig  meditations 
of  Black  Jack.  Acceptin'  this  yere  view,  he 
stands  pat  on  his  shelf.  Likewise,  he  shore 
looks  mighty  vivid  up  thar,  an'  has  got  that 
former  stuffed  predecessor  of  his  beat  four 
ways  from  the  jack. 

"We're  hankerin'  around,  now  the  Bar-8 
bobcat's  organized,  waitin'  for  Monte  to  come 
amblin'  up,  an'  be  reformed. 

"  'An'  you  can  gamble,'  Tutt  says,  'that  the 
shock  it'll  throw  into  him'll  have  a  ben'ficial 
effect.  Shootin'  off  a  hand  or  so  ain't  in  it 
with  the  way  that  drunkard's  goin'  to  feel.' 

'That's  the  way  I  figgers,'  Texas  remarks. 
'One  glance  at  that  bobcat,  him  on  the  verge 
of  the  treemors,  an'  thar'll  a  thrill  go  through 
his  rum-soaked  frame  like  the  grace  of  heaven 
through  a  camp  meetin'.  For  one,  I  antic'- 
pate  most  excellent  effects.  Whatever  do  you 
think,  Doc?' 

"' Whatever   do   I   think?'   Peets   repeats. 


120        Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

'Which  I  thinks  that,  as  the  orig'nators  of  this 
yere  cure  for  the  licker  habit,  it'll  be  up  to 
you  an'  Dave  to  convey  the  patient  to  his  room 
at  the  O.  K.  House,  as  soon  as  ever  you  can 
control  his  struggles.' 

"Monte  at  last  heaves  in  sight,  an'  comes 
shiverin'  up  to  the  bar,  every  nerve  as  tight  as 
a  fiddle  string.  Black  Jack  shoves  him  the 
bottle. 

"  'What  stuffed  anamile  sharp,'  says  Tutt, 
craftily  directin'  himself  at  Black  Jack, 
'mounts  that  bobcat  up  thar?' 

"Monte  nacherally  raises  his  eyes.  Thar's 
that  Bar-8  feline,  half-crouched,  glarin'  down 
on  him  with  green  eyes,  big  as  moons. 

"That  settles  it.  * 

"Monte  gives  a  yell  which  they  hears  in 
Red  Dog.  Wharupon  the  bobcat,  takin'  it  for 
a  threatenin'  deemonstration,  enfolds  in  an  an- 
swerin'  yell,  an'  makes  a  scramblin'  jump  at 
Monte's  head.  Shore,  he  don't  land  none, 
bein'  brought  up  short,  like  a  roped  pony. 
Thar  he  swings,  cussin'  an'  spittin'  an'  clawin', 
as  mad  as  a  drunken  squaw,  an'  begins  all  over 
to  hang  himse'f  afresh. 

"Monte? 


Old  Monte,  Official  Drunkard       121 

"That  victim  of  appetite  falls  to  the  floor 
as  dead  an'  flat  as  a  wet  December  leaf. 

"Actin'  on  them  instructions,  Tutt  an' 
Texas  picks  Monte  up  an'  packs  him 
across  to  Peets,  who,  after  fussin'  over  him  for 
mebby  an  hour,  brings  him  round  s'fficient  so 
he  goes  from  one  convulsion  into  another, 
in  what  you-all  might  deescribe  as  an  endless 
chain  of  fits.  Thar's  nothin'  to  it;  Peets  is 
indoobitable  the  best  equipped  drug  sharp 
that  ever  breaks  loose  in  Arizona.  At  that, 
while  Monte  lives,  he  don't  but  jest.  He's 
shore  close  enough  at  one  time  to  kingdom 
come  to  hear  the  singin'. 

"For  two  weeks  Monte's  boilin'  an' 
boundin'  round  in  his  blankets,  Texas  an' 
Tutt,  feelin'  a  heap  reemorseful,  standin' 
watch  and  watch.  It's  decided  that  no  more 
attempts  to  reform  him  will  be  made,  him 
bein' — accordin'  to  Peets — too  far  gone  that 
a-way. 

"He's  plumb  onreform'ble,'  explains  Peets; 
'whiskey's  got  to  be  so  much  a  second  nacher 
with  him,  that  the  only  way  you-all  could 
cure  him  now  is  kill  him.' 

"By  way  of  partial  rep 'ration  for  what  he 


122        Faro  Nell  and  Her  Triends 

suffers,  as  soon  as  Monte  can  ag'in  move 
about,  Enright  calls  a  meetin'  of  the  camp,  an' 
dooly  commissions  him  'Offishul  Drunkard,' 
with  a  absoloote  an'  non-reevok'ble  license  to 
go  as  far  as  he  likes. 

"  'This  yere  post  of  offishul  drunkard/  En- 
right  explains  to  the  meetin',  'carries  with  it 
no  money,  no  power,  an'  means  only  that  he's 
free  to  drink  from  dark  to  daylight  an'  to 
dark  ag'in,  oncriticized,  onreproved,  an'  on- 
saved.  Colonel  Sterett  imparts  to  us  in  the 
last  Daily  Coyote  how  them  Hindoos  has  their 
sacred  cobras.  Cobras  not  bein'  feas'ble  none 
in  Arizona,  Wolfville  in  loo  of  sech  accepts  old 
Monte.  Yereafter,  w'arin'  the  title  of  offishul 
drunkard,  he  takes  his  place  in  the  public  re- 
gyard  as  Wolfville's  sacred  cobra.' 

"When  Monte  learns  of  his  elevation, 
his  eyes  fills  up  with  gratified  pride,  an'  as 
soon  as  ever  he's  able  to  stand  the  w'ar  an' 
far,  he  goes  on  a  protracted  public  drunk,  by 
way  of  cel'bration,  while  we  looks  tol'rantly  on. 

'  'Gents,'  he  says,  'I  thanks  you.  Yereafter 
the  gnawin'  tooth  of  conscience  will  be  dulled, 
havin'  your  distinguished  endorsement  so  to 
do.  Virchoo  is  all  right  in  its  place.  But  so 


Old  Monte,  Official  Drunkard       123 

is  vice.  The  world  can't  all  be  good  an'  safe 
at  one  an'  the  same  time.  Which  if  we  all  done 
right,  an'  went  to  the  right,  we'd  tip  the  world 
over.  Half  has  got  to  do  wrong  an'  go  to  the 
left,  to  hold  things  steady.  That's  me;  I  was 
foaled  to  do  wrong  an'  go  to  the  left.  It's  the 
only  way  in  which  a  jealous  but  inscroot'ble 
Providence  permits  me  to  serve  my  hour.  Offi- 
shul  drunkard!  Ag'in  I  thanks  you.  Which 
this  yere's  the  way  I  long  have  sought,  an' 
mourned  because  I  found  it  not,  long  meter.' 

"Boggs  is  the  only  gent  who  takes  a  gloomy; 
view. 

"  that's  fine  for  this  yere  egreegious 
Monte,'  says  Boggs,  talkin'  to  Enright;  'as 
Wolfville's  pet  drunkard  an'  offishul  cobra, 
he's  mighty  pleasantly  provided  for.  But  how 
about  the  camp?  Whar  does  Wolfville  come 
in?  We're  a  strong  people;  but  does  any  gent 
pretend  that  we  possesses  the  fortitoode  ree- 
quired  to  b'ar  up  through  all  the  comin'  rum- 
soaked  years? — an'  all  onder  the  weight  of  this 
yere  onmatched  inebriate,  whom  by  our  own 
act  an'  as  offishul  drunkard,  we  onmuzzles  in 
our  shrinkin'  midst?  Gents,  this  thing  can't 


124         Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

"  'Not  necessar'ly,  Dan,'  retorts  Enright, 
his  manner  trenchin'  on  the  cold;  'not  neces 
sar'ly.  Let  me  expound  the  sityooation.  I 
need  not  remind  you-all  that  Sand  Creek 
Riley,  who  drives  the  Tucson  stage,  gets 
bumped  off  the  other  evenin',  while  preepos- 
terously  insistin'  that  aces-up  beats  three-of-a- 
kind.  Realizin'  the  trooth  of  half  what  you 
has  said,  Dan,  I  this  evenin'  enters  into  strate 
gic  reelations  with  the  stage  company's  agent ; 
an'  as  a  reesult,  an'  datin'  from  now  on,  old 
Monte  will  be  hired  to  fill  the  place  of  Sand 
Creek  Riley,  whom  we  all  regrets.  It's  hardly 
reequired  that  I  p'int  out  the  benefits  of  this 
yere  arrangement.  As  stage  driver,  old 
Monte  for  every  other  night  will  get  sawed 
off  on  Tucson.  An'  I  mis j  edges  the  vitality 
of  this  camp  if,  with  the  pressure  on  it  thus  re 
lieved,  an'  Tucson  carryin'  half  the  load,  it's 
enable  to  live  through.  In  my  opinion,  Dan, 
by  the  light  of  this  explanation,  you  at  least 
oughter  hope  for  the  best.' 

"'That's  whatever!'  says  Boggs,  who's 
plumb  convinced;  'if  I'd  waited  ontil  you  was 
heard,  Sam,  I'd  never  voiced  them  apprehen 
sions.  But  the  fact  is,  this  yere  Monte  cobra 


Old  Monte,  Official  Drunkard       125 

of  ours,  with  his  bibbin's  an'  his  guzzlin's,  has 
redooced  me  to  a  condition  of  nervous  prostra 
tion.  It's  all  right  now.  Which  I  will  say, 
however,  that  I  can't  reeflect  none  without  a 
shudder  on  what  them  Tucson  folks'll  say  an' 
think,  so  soon  as  ever  they  wakes  up  to  what's 
been  played  on  'em.'  " 


HOW  THE  MOCKING  BIRD  WAS  WON 

"Myst'ries? 

"We  lives  surrounded  by  'em.  Look  whar 
you  will,  nacher  has  a  ace  buried.  Take  dogs, 
now:  Why  is  it  when  one  of  'em,  daylight  or 
dark,  cuts  the  trail  of  a  anamile,  he  never 
makes  the  fool  mistake  of  back-trackin'  it,  but 
is  shore  to  run  his  game  the  way  it's  movin'? 
There  must  be  some  kind  of  head-an'-tail  to 
the  scent,  that  a-way,  to  give  the  dog  the 
hunch.  Myst'ry! — all  myst'ry!  The  more  a 
gent  goes  messin'  'round  for  s'lootions,  the 
more  he's  taught  hoomility  an'  that  he  ain't 
knee-high  to  toads. 

"An'  yet  when  it  comes  to  things  myster'ous 
everything  else  is  bound  to  go  to  the  diskyard 
compared  to  a  lady's  heart.  Of  course,  I 
Speaks  only  in  a  sperit  of  philos'phy,  an'  not 
as  one  who's  suffered.  I  never  myse'f  am  able 
pers'nal  to  approach  closter  to  a  lady's  heart 
than  across  the  street.  Peets  once  reemarks 

126 


How  the  Mocking  Bird  Was  Won    127 

that  all  trails  leads  to  Rome.  In  that  busi 
ness  of  trails  a  lady's  heart  has  got  Rome  left 
standin'  sideways.  Not  only  does  every  trail 
lead  tharunto,  but  thar's  sech  a  thing  as  goin' 
cross-lots.  Take  gettin'  in  love;  thar's  as 
many  ways  as  cookin'  eggs.  While  you'll  see 
gents  who  goes  skallyhootin'  into  that  dulcet 
condition  as  straight  as  a  arrer,  thar's  others 
who  sidles  in,  an'  still  others  who  backs  in.  I 
even  knows  a  boy  who  shoots  his  way  in. 

"Which  the  lady  in  this  case  is  the  Mockin* 
Bird.  That  Mockin'  Bird  maiden  has  wooers 
by  onbounded  scores,  but  holds  herse'f  as  shy 
an'  as  much  aloof  as  if  she's  a  mountain  sheep. 
Not  one  can  get  near  enough  to  her  to  give  her 
a  ripe  peach.  Along  comes  the  eboolient  Tur 
key  Track,  bulges  headlong  into  her  dest'nies, 
takes  to  menacin'  at  her  with  a  gun  an',  final, 
to  bombardin'  her  outright,  an' — love  an'  heart 
an'  hand — she  comes  a-runnin'. 

"Wolfville's  without  that  last  evidence  of 
advancement,  a  callaboose.  It  bein'  incon 
venient  to  shoot  up  or  lynch  everybody  who 
infringes  our  rooles,  Jack  Moore  invents  a 
convincin'  but  innocuous  punishment  for  minor 
offenders.  Endorsed  by  Enright,  he  estab- 


128        Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

lished  a  water  trough — it's  big  enough  to  swim 
a  dog — over  by  the  windmill;  an'  when  some 
perfervid  cowpuncher,  sufferin'  from  a  over 
dose  of  nosepaint,  takes  to  aggravatin'  'round 
Moore  swashes  him  about  in  the  trough  some 
prof  oose,  ontil  he  gives  his  word  to  live  a  hap 
pier  an'  a  better  life. 

"It's  like  magic  the  way  that  water  trough 
works.  No  matter  how  gala  some  pronghorn 
of  a  cowboy  may  feel,  it  shore  lets  the  whey 
out  of  him.  Given  the  most  voylent,  it's  only 
a  matter  of  minutes  before  he's  soaked  into 
quietood.  Enright  himse'f  says  Moore's  en 
titled  to  a  monyooment  for  the  idee. 

"Turkey  Track's  name  is  Ford,  Tom  Ford, 
but  workin'  that  a-way  for  the  Turkey  Track 
outfit  he  nacherally  gets  renamed  for  the 
brand.  Turkey  Track  an'  two  boon  compan 
ions  has  been  goin'  to  an'  fro  from  the  Red 
Light  to  the  Dance  Hall,  ontil  by  virchoo  of 
a  over-accumyoolation  of  licker  they're  begin- 
iyn'  to  step  some  high.  Also,  they  takes  to 
upliftin'  their  tired  souls  with  yells,  an'  blazin' 
away  at  froote  cans  with  their  six-shooters. 

"It  gets  so  that  Enright  tells  Moore  to  give 
'em  a  call-down. 


How  the  Mocking  Bird  Was  Won   120 

"  'What  them  hoys  does,'  says  Enright,  'is 
done  harmless  an'  light-hearted  to  be  shore,  an* 
nothin'  radic'lly  wrong  is  either  aimed  at  or 
meant ;  but  all  the  same,  Jack,  it's  no  more'n 
proodence  to  go  knock  their  horns  off.  It 
ain't  what  them  yooths  is  doin',  but  what  they 
may  be  led  to  do,  which  makes  the  danger. 
It's  like  old  Deacon  Sopris  at  the  Cumberland 
Methodist  class  meetin'  says  of  kyard-playin'. 
"It  ain't,"  explains  the  deacon,  "that  thar's 
any  harm  in  the  children  playin'  seven-up 
around  the  kitchen  table  of  a  winter's  eve- 
nin'  for  grains  of  corn,  but  seven-up  per 
sisted  in  is  shore  to  lead  to  dancin'."  An' 
so  with  these  young  merry-makers.  They'll 
keep  on  slamin'  away  at  empty  bottles  an' 
former  tomatter  cans  that  a-way,  ontil  the 
more  seedate  element  objects,  an'  some-? 
body  gets  downed.  Don't  you  agree  with 
me,  Doc?' 

"  'Nothin'  shorerl'  says  Peets. 

"Moore  corrals  Turkey  Track  an'  his  fellow 
revellers,  an'  tosses  off  a  few  fiats. 

'  'Quit  that  whoopin'  an'  shootin',  boyjs,' 
says  Moore.  'Likewise,  keep  your  hardware 
in  your  belts,  as  more  deecorous.  So  shore  as 


130        Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

I  finds  a  gun  in  any  of  your  hands  ag'in,  I'll 
shoot  it  out.' 

"Turkey  Track  an'  his  compadres  don't  say 
nothin'  back.  They  savvys  about  the  water 
trough,  an'  ain't  hungerin'  none  to  have  their 
ardor  dampened  in  no  sech  fashion.  So  they 
blinks  an'  winks  like  a  passel  of  squinch  owls, 
but  never  onbuckles  in  no  argyooment.  All 
the  same,  it  irks  'em  a  whole  lot,  an'  after 
Moore  reetires  they  begins  moderate  to  arch 
their  necks  an'  expand  'round  a  little. 

"They  allows — talkin'  among  themselves  in 
a  quer'lous  way — that  they  ain't  hurtin'  no 
one,  an'  for  Moore  to  come  shovin'  'round  an' 
lecturin'  on  etiquette  is  a  conceited  exhibition 
of  authority  as  offensive  as  it  is  on  jest.  Thar's 
doubts,  too,  about  it's  bein'  constitootional. 

"  'Whatever  does  that  jim-crow  sp'ile-sport 
of  a  marshal  mean?'  says  Turkey  Track.  'It 
looks  like  he's  not  only  deefyin'  the  organic 
law  of  this  country,  but  puttin'  on  a  heap  of 
dog.  Does  he  reckon  this  yere  camp's  a 
church?' 

"  'I  moves  we  treats  them  mandates,'  says 
one  of  the  boys,  who's  a  rider  for  the  G-bar 
ranch,  'with  merited  contempt.' 


How  the  Mocking  Bird  Was  Won    131 

"  'As  how?'  asks  the  third,  who  belongs  with 
the  Four-J  brand.  'You  ain't  so  locoed  as  to 
s'ggest  we-all  t'ars  person'ly  into  this  Jack 
Moore  marshal  none  I  hopes?' 

"  'Which  you  fills  me  with  disgust!'  says  the 
other,  nettled  at  the  idee  of  pawin'  the  on- 
profit'ble  grass  'round  Moore;  'but  whatever's 
the  matter  with  goin'  up  to  the  far  end  of  the 
street,  an'  w'irl  an'  come  squanderin'  back  jest 
a  shootin'?' 

"'Great!'  says  Turkey  Track,  applaudin' 
the  scheme.  'Which  we-all  nacherally  shoots 
up  their  old  prairie  dog  town,  same  as  if  it's 
a  Mexican  plaza,  an'  then  jogs  on  to  our 
ranches,  all  triumphant  an'  comfortable.' 

"The  three  rides  up  to  the  head  of  the  street, 
an'  then  turns  an' — givin'  their  ponies  the 
steel — comes  whizzin'  down  through  the  center 
of  eevents,  yelpin'  like  Apaches  an'  lookin'  like 
fireworks.  They've  got  a  gun  in  each  hand, 
an'  they  shakes  the  flame  an'  smoke  out  of  'em 
same  as  three  volcanoes  on  hossback. 

"Moore's  standin'  in  front  of  the  Noo  York 
store,  talkin'  to  Tutt.  As  you-all  might  imag 
ine,  it  frets  him  to  the  quick  to  see  how  little 
them  effervescent  sperits  cares  for  his  injunc- 


132        Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

tions.  By  way  of  rebooke — not  wantin'  to 
down  'em  outright  for  what,  take  it  the  worst 
way,  ain't  nothin'  more  heen'ous  than  a  im 
propriety — Moore  gets  his  artillery  to  b'ar,  an' 
as  they  flashes  by  like  comets,  opens  on  the 
ponies.  It's  hard  on  the  ponies;  but  it  won't 
do  to  let  them  young  roysterers  get  away  with 
their  play.  The  example'll  spread ;  an',  onless 
checked  at  the  jump,  inside  of  a  month  thar'd 
be  nothin'  but  a  whoopin'  procession  of  cow- 
punchers  chargin'  up  an'  down  the  causeways. 
Tenderfeet  might  acquire  misgivin's  techin' 
us  bein'  a  peaceful  camp,  an'  the  thing  op 'rate 
as  a  blow  to  trade.  It's  become  a  case  of 
either  get  the  boys  or  get  the  ponies,  an'  on- 
der  the  circumstances  the  ponies  has  the 
call. 

"Thar's  no  more  artistic  gun-player  than 
Moore  in  town,  onless  it's  Cherokee,  an'  mebby 
Doc  Peets,  who's  a  heap  soon  with  a  derringer. 
As  the  ponies  flash  by,  Moore's  six-shooter 
barks  three  times.  Two  ponies  goes  rollin'; 
the  third — it's  Turkey  Track's — continyoos 
cavortin'  down  the  street  an'  out  of  town. 
Turkey  Track  never  pulls  up  nor  looks  back. 
The  last  we  sees  of  him  is  when  he's  two  miles 


How  the  Mocking  Bird  Was  Won    133 

away,  an'  a  swell  rises  up  behind  him  an'  hides 
him  from  view. 

"The  G-bar  boy,  an'  him  from  the  Four-J 
outfit,  hits  the  grass  twenty  feet  ahead  of  their 
ponies,  like  a  roll  of  blankets  chucked  out  of  a 
wagon,  an'  after  bumpin'  an'  tumblin'  along 
for  a  rod  or  so,  an'  all  mighty  condoosive  to 
fractures  an'  dislocations,  they  flattens  out  ree- 
spective  same  as  a  couple  of  cancelled  postage 
stamps.  Shore,  the  fall  jolts  the  savvy  plumb 
out  of  'em. 

"Bein'  they're  stretched  out  an'  passive, 
Moore  collects  'em  an'  sops  'em  up  an'  down  in 
the  water  trough  for  mebby  it's  fifteen  min 
utes.  Which  they're  reesus'tated  an'  reeproved 
at  one  an'  the  same  time.  When  them  yooths 
comes  to,  they're  a  model  to  angels.  To  be 
shore,  their  intellects  don't  shine  out  at  first 
none  like  the  sun  at  noon,  but  continyoos 
blurred  for  hours.  Even  as  late  as  the  weddin* 
of  Turkey  Track  with  the  Mockin'  Bird — an* 
that  ain't  for  all  of  eight  weeks — the  G-bar 
boy  informs  Boggs  confidenshul,  as  they're 
takin'  a  little  licker  all  sociable,  that  speakin' 
mental  he's  as  yet  a  heap  in  eeclipse. 

"The  maiden  name  of  the  Mockin'  Bird  is 


134        Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

Loocinda  Gildersleeve,  but  pop'lar  preference 
allers  sticks  to  her  stage  title.  She's  a  f  av'rite 
at  the  Bird  Cage  Op'ry  House,  at  which 
nursery  of  the  drammy  she's  been  singin'  off 
an'  on  for  somethin'  like  three  years.  She's  a 
shore-enough  singer,  too,  the  Mockin'  Bird  is. 
None  of  your  yeepin's  an'  peepin's,  none  of 
your  mice  squeaks  an'  tea-kettle  tones  an'  cub 
coyote  yelps.  Which  she's  got  a  round,  mee- 
lod'yous  bellow  like  a  hound  in  full  cry,  an' 
while  she's  singin'  thar  ain't  a  wolf '11  open  his 
mouth  within  a  mile  of  town.  Which  them 
anamiles  is  plumb  abashed,  the  Mockin'  Bird 
outholdin'  'em  to  that  degree. 

" You-all  don't  hear  no  sech  singin'  in  the 
East.  Thar  ain't  room;  an'  moreover  the 
East's  too  timid.  For  myse'f,  an'  I  ain't  got 
no  y'ear  for  music,  them  top  notes  of  the  Mock- 
in'  Bird,  like  the  death  yell  of  a  mountain  lion, 
is  cap'ble  of  givin'  me  the  fantods;  while  the 
way  she  hands  out  'Home,  Sweet  Home'  an' 
'Suwannee  River,'  an'  her  voice  sort  o'  diggin' 
down  into  the  soul,  sets  eemotional  sports  like 
Boggs  an'  Black  Jack  to  sobbin'  as  though 
their  hearts  is  broke.  She's  certainly  a  jo- 
darter  of  a  vocalist — the  Mockin'  Bird  is,  an' 


How  the  Mocking  Bird  Was  Won    135 

once  when  she  renders  'Loosiana  Loo'  an' 
Boggs's  more'n  common  affected,  he  offers  to 
bet  yellow  chips  as  high  as  the  ceilin'  she  can 
sing  the  sights  off  a  Colt's  .45. 

"  'Which  I  enjoys  one  of  the  most  mis'rable 
evenin's  of  my  c'reer,'  says  Boggs  to  Faro 
Nell,  when  she  expresses  sympathy  at  him 
feelin'  so  cast  down.  'I  wouldn't  have  missed 
it  for  a  small  clay  farm.' 

ff(Yo  tambien'  says  Black  Jack,  who's 
keepin'  Boggs  melancholly  company  while  he 
weeps.  'Only  I  reckons  the  odd  kyard  in  my 
own  case  is  that,  before  I'm  a  man  an'  in  some 
other  existence,  I  used  to  be  one  of  these  yere 
ornery  little  fice  dogs,  which  howls  every  time 
it  hears  a  pianny.  It's  some  left-over  vestiges 
of  that  life  when  I'm  a  dog  which  sets  me  to 
bawlin',  that  a-way,  whenever  the  Mockin' 
Bird  girl  sings.  I  experiences  pensive  sensa 
tions,  sim'lar  to  what  comes  troopin'  over  a 
gent,  who's  libatin'  alone,  on  the  heels  of  the 
third  drink.' 

"The  Mockin'  Bird  looks  as  sweet  as  she 
sings.  I  mentions  long  ago  about  the  phil'- 
sophic  old  stoodent  who  says,  'They  do  say  love 
is  blind,  but  I'll  be  ding-danged  if  some  gents 


186        Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

can't  see  more  in  their  girls  than  I  can.'  This 
yere  wisdom  don't  apply  none  to  the  Mockin' 
Bird*  Them  wooers  of  hers,  to  say  nothin'  of 
Turkey  Track,  possesses  jestification  for  be- 
comin'  so  plumb  maudlin'.  Lovely?  She's  as 
pretty  as  a  cactus  flower,  or  a  sunrise  on  the 
staked  plains. 

"Folks  likes  her,  too.  Take  that  evenin' 
when  a  barbarian  from  over  to'ards  the  Cow 
Springs  cuts  loose  to  disturb  the  exercises  at 
the  Bird  Cage  Op'ry  House  with  a  measly 
fling  or  two.  The  public  well  nigh  beefs  him. 
They'd  have  shore  put  him  over  the  jump, 
only  Enright  interferes. 

"It's  doorin'  the  openin'  scene,  when  the  ac 
tors  is  camped  'round  in  a  half-circle,  f  acin'  the 
fiddlers.  Huggins,  who  manages  the  Bird 
Cage,  an'  who's  the  only  hooman  who  ever  con- 
soomes  licker,  drink  for  drink,  with  Monte,  an' 
lives  to  tell  the  tale,  is  in  the  middle.  Bowin' 
to  the  Mockin'  Bird,  an'  as  notice  that  she's 
goin'  to  carol  some,  he  announces: 

"  'The  world-reenowned  cantatrice,  Mam'- 
selle  Loocinda  Gildersleeve,  ceFbrated  in  two 
hemispheres  as  the  Mockin'  Bird  of  Arizona, 
now  sing  the  ballad  wharwith  she  ravished 


How  the  Mocking  Bird  Was  Won    137 

the  y'ears  of  every  crowned  head  of  Europe, 
the  same  bein'  that  pop'lar  air  from  the  op'ry 
of  Loocretia  Borgia,  "Down  in  the  Valley."  ' 

"At  this  that  oncooth  criminal  from  the  Cow 
Springs  gets  up : 

"  'The  Mockin'  Bird  of  Arizona  which  you- 
all  is  Muffin'  about,'  he  shouts,  'can't  sing 
more'n  a  burro,  an'  used  to  sling  hash  in  a 
section  house  over  by  Colton.' 

'  'Never  the  less,  notwithstandin','  replies 
Huggins,  who's  too  drunk  to  feel  ruffled, 
'Mam'selle  Loocinda  Gildersleeve,  known  to 
all  the  world  as  the  Mockin'  Bird  of  Arizona, 
will  now  sing  "Down  in  the  Valley."  ' 

"Huggins  would  have  let  things  go  at  that, 
but  not  so  the  Wolfville  pop 'lace.  In  the 
cockin'  of  a  Winchester  they  swoops  down  on 
that  Cow  Springs  outcast  like  forty  hen-hawks 
on  a  single  quail,  an'  as  I  yeretofore  ob 
serves,  if  it  ain't  for  Enright  they'd  have  made 
him  shortly  hard  to  find.  You  can  gamble, 
the  Cow  Springs  savage  never  does  go  out  on 
that  limb  ag'in. 

"While  Turkey  Track  escapes  the  water 
trough,  an'  makes  his  getaway  that  time  all 
right,  the  pore  pony  ain't  got  by  Moore  on- 


138        Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

scathed.  The  bullet  hits  him  jest  to  the  r'ar 
of  the  saddle-flap,  an*  out  about  a  brace  of 
miles  he  stumbles  over  dead. 

"It's  yere  eevents  begins  to  fall  together  like 
a  shock  of  oats.  The  Mockin'  Bird's  been  over 
entrancin'  Tucson,  an'  the  reg'lar  stage  with 
Monte  not  preecisely  dove-tailin'  with  her 
needs,  she  charters  a  speshul  buckboard  to  get 
back.  Thar's  a  feeble  form  of  hooman  ground 
owl  drivin'  her,  one  of  these  yere  parties  who's 
all  alkali  an'  hard  luck,  an'  as  deevoid  of  manly 
sperit  as  jack-rabbits  onweaned. 

"This  yere  ground  owl  party,  drivin'  for 
the  Mockin'  Bird,  comes  clatterin'  along  with 
the  buckboard  jest  as  Turkey  Track  strips  the 
saddle  an'  bridle  from  his  deef unct  pony.  Tur 
key  Track  is  not  without  execyootive  ability, 
an'  seein'  he's  afoot  an'  thirty  miles  from  his 
home  ranch,  he  pulls  his  gun  an'  sticks  up  the 
buckboard  plenty  prompt.  At  the  mere  sight 
of  a  weepon  the  hands  of  that  young  owl-per 
son  goes  searchin'  for  stars,  an'  he's  beggin' 
Turkey  Track  not  to  rub  him  out — him  think- 
in'  it's  a  reg'lar  hold-up.  That's  all  the  opp'- 
sition  thar  is,  onless  you  counts  the  reemarks 
of  the  Mockin'  Bird,  who  becomes  both  bitter 


How  the  Mocking  Bird  Was  Won   139 


an'  bitin'  in  equal  parts,  but  has  no  more  ef 
fect  on  Turkey  Track — an'  him  afoot  that 
a-way — than  pourin'  water  on  a  drowned  rat. 
Shore,  a  cow-puncher'd  fight  all  day,  an'  even 
face  a  enraged  female,  before  he'd  walk  a  hour. 

"Turkey  Track  piles  his  saddle  an'  bridle 
onto  the  r'ar  of  the  buckboard,  an'  settin'  in 
behind  on  his  plunder,  commands  the  ground 
owl  driver  to  head  west  till  further  orders. 
Likewise,  he  so  far  onbends  as  to  say  that  them 
orders  won't  be  deecem'nated,  none  whatever, 
ontil  he's  landed  at  the  Turkey  Track  home 
ranch.  Since  he  backs  this  yere  programme 
with  his  artillery,  the  ground  owl  ain't  got 
nothin'  to  say,  an'  it's  no  time  when  the  out 
fit's  weavin'  along  a  side  trail  in  the  sole  in- 
t'rests  of  Turkey  Track. 

"What's  worse,  to  dispell  the  ennui  of  sech 
a  trip,  an'  drive  away  dull  care,  Turkey  Track 
takes  to  despotizin'  over  the  Mockin'  Bird  with 
his  six-shooter,  an'  compels  her  to  sing  con 
stant  throughout  them  thirty  miles.  He  makes 
her  carrol  every  thin'  from  'Old  Hundred'  to 
'Turkey  in  the  Straw,'  an'  then  brings  her  back 
to  'Old  Hundred'  an'  starts  her  over.  The 
pore  harassed  Mockin'  Bird,  what  with  the 


140        Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

dust,  an'  what  with  Turkey  Track  tyrannizin' 
at  her  with  his  gun,  sounds  final  like  an  on- 
greased  wheelbarrow  which  has  seen  better 
days.  She  don't  get  her  voice  ag'in  for  mighty 
clost  to  a  month,  an'  even  then,  as  she  says 
herse'f,  thar's  places  where  the  rivets  reequires 
tightenin'. 

"It's  pressin'  onto  eight  weeks  before  ever 
Turkey  Track  is  heard  of  'round  town  ag'in. 
Also,  it's  in  the  Bird  Cage  Op'ry  House  he 
hits  the  surface  of  his  times.  The  Mockin' 
Bird  has  jest  done  drove  the  vocal  picket-pin 
of  'Old  Kentucky  Home,'  when,  bang!  some 
loonatic  shoots  at  her.  Which  the  bullet  bores 
a  hole  in  the  scenery  not  a  foot  above  her  head. 

"Every  one  sees  by  the  smoke  whar  that 
p'lite  attention  em'nates  from,  an'  before  you 
could  count  two,  Moore,  Boggs,  an'  Texas 
Thompson  has  convened  themselves  on  top  of 
that  ident'cal  spot.  Thar  sets  Turkey  Track, 
cryin'  like  a  child. 

*  'It's  no  use,  gents,'  he  sobs,  the  tears  cours- 
in'  down  his  cheeks,  'she's  so  plumb  bewitchin', 
an'  I  adores  her  so,  I  simply  has  to  blaze  away 
or  bust.' 

"While  he  don't  harm  the  Mockin'  Bird 


How  the  Mocking  Bird  Was  Won    141 

none,  the  sent'ment  of  the  Stranglers,  when 
Enright  raps  'em  to  order  inform'ly  at  the 
Red  Light  an'  Black  Jack  has  organized  the 
inspiration,  favors  hangin'  Turkey  Track. 
Even  Texas,  who  loathes  ladies  by  reason  of 
what's  been  sawed  off  onto  him  in  the  way  of 
divorce  an'  alimony,  that  a-way,  by  his  Laredo 
wife,  is  yoonan'mous  for  swingin'  him  off. 

"  'That  I  don't  believe  in  marryin'  'em,'  says 
Texas,  expoundin'  his  p'sition  concernin' 
ladies  in  answer  to  Boggs  who  claims  he's  in 
consistent,  'don't  mean  I  wants  'em  killed. 
But  you  never  was  no  logician,  Dan.' 

"Cherokee's  the  only  gent  who's  inclined  to 
softer  attitoodes,  an'  that  leeniency  is  born 
primar'ly  of  the  inflooence  of  Nell.  Nell  is 
plumb  romantic,  an'  when  she  hears  how  the 
Turkey  Track's  been  enfiladin'  at  the  Mockin' 
Bird  only  because  he  loves  her,  while  she  don't 
reely  know  what  she  does  want  done  with  that 
impossible  cow-puncher,  she  shore  don't  want 
him  hanged. 

'  'It's  sech  a  inter estin'  story!'  says  Nell,  an* 
then  capers  across  to  Missis  Rucker  an'  Tuc 
son  Jennie  to  c'llect  their  f  eelin's. 

"Moore  brings  in  Turkey  Track. 


142        Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

1  'Be  you-all  tryin'  to  blink  out  this  yere 
young  lady?'  asks  Enright,  'or  is  that  gun  play 
in  the  way  of  applause?' 

"  'It's  love,'  protests  Turkey  Track,  his  voice 
chokin';  'it's  simply  a  cry  from  the  soul.  I 
learns  to  love  her  that  day  on  the  buckboard 
while  I'm  lookin'  at  her  red  ha'r,  red  bein'  my 
winnin'  color.  Gents,  you-all  won't  credit  it 
none,  but  jest  the  same  them  auburn  tresses 
gets  wropped  about  my  heart.' 

"  'Whatever  do  you  make  of  it,  Doc?'  whis 
pers  Enright. 

"  'This  boy,'  returns  Peets,  'has  got  himse'f 
too  much  on  his  own  mind.     He's  sufferin' 
from  what  the  books  calls  exaggerated  ego.' 
'That's  one  way  of  bein'  locoed,  ain't  it?' 

"  'Shore.  But  him  bein'  twisted  mental  ain't 
no  reason  for  not  adornin'  the  windmill  with 
his  remains.  The  only  public  good  a  hangin' 
does  is  to  scare  folks  up  a  lot,  an'  you  can 
scare  a  loonatic  quite  as  quick  an'  quite  as 
hard  as  a  gent  whose  intellects  is  plumb.' 

"  'Thar  she  stands,'  Turkey  Track  breaks  in 
ag'in,  not  waitin'  for  no  questions,  'an'  me  as 
far  below  her  as  stingin'  lizards  is  from  stars! 
Then,  ag'in,  when  folks  down  in  front  is 


How  the  Mocking  Bird  Was  Won    143 

a'plaudin'  her,  she  wavin'  at  'em  meanwhile  the 
gracious  smile,  it  makes  me  jealous.  Gents, 
I  don't  plan  nothin',  but  the  first  I  knows  I 
lugs  out  the  old  .45  an'  onhooks  it/ 

"The  Mockin'  Bird  has  come  over  from  the 
O.  K.  House  with  Nell,  Missis  Rucker  an' 
Tucson  Jennie.  As  she  hears  Turkey  Track's 
confession  two  drops  shows  in  her  eyes  like 
diamonds.  Clutchin'  hold  of  Nell,  an'  with 
Missis  Rucker  an'  Tucson  Jennie  flockin' 
along  in  the  r'ar,  she  rushes  out  the  front 
door. 

"This  manoover  leaves  us  some  upset,  ontil 
Nell  returns  to  explain. 

"  'She's  overcome  by  them  disclosures,'  says 
Nell,  'an'  goes  outside  to  blush.' 

"  'The  ontoward  breaks  of  that  songstress,' 
observes  Enright  oneasily,  'has  a  tendency  to 
confoose  the  issue,  an'  put  this  committee  in 
the  hole.' 

'Thar's  nothin'  confoosin'  about  it,  Sam 
Enright.'  It's  Missis  Rucker  who  breaks  out 
high  an'  threatening  she  havin'  come  back  with 
Nell.  'This  yere  Mockin'  Bird  girl's  in  love 
with  that  gun-playin'  cowboy,  an'  it's  only  now 
she  finds  it  out.  Do  you-all  murderers  still 


144        Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

insist  on  hangin'  this  yere  boy,  or  be  you  willin' 
to  see  'em  wed  an'  live  happy  ever  after?' 

*  'Let's  rope  up  a  divine  some'ers,'  exclaims 
Boggs,  'an'  have  'em  married.  If  that  Mock- 
in'  Bird  girl  wants  Turkey  Track  she  shall 
shore  have  him.  I'd  give  her  his  empty  head 
on  a  charger,  if  she  asks  it,  same  as  that  party 
in  holy  writ,  she  singin'  "Suwannee  River" 
like  she  does.' 

"Cherokee,  who's  more  or  less  rooled  by 
Nell,  thinks  a  weddin'  the  proper  step,  an' 
Tutt,  who  sees  somethin'  in  Tucson  Jennie's 
eye,  declar's  himse'f  some  hasty. 

"Even  Texas  backs  the  play. 

"  'But  make  no  mistake,'  says  Texas;  'I  in 
sists  on  wedlock  over  lynchin'  only  because  it's 
worse.' 

"  'Which  it's  as  well,  Sam  Enright,'  observes 
Missis  Rucker,  blowin'  through  her  nose 
mighty  warlike,  'that  you  an'  your  marauders 
has  sense  enough  to  see  your  way  through  to 
that  deecision.  Which  if  you'd  failed,  I'd  have 
took  this  Turkey  Track  boy  away  from  you-all 
with  my  own  hands.  This  Vig'lance  Commit 
tee  needn't  think  it's  goin'  to  do  as  it  pleases 
'round  yere — hangin'  folks  for  bein'  in  love, 


How  the  Mocking  Bird  Was  Won    145 

an'  closin'  its  y'ears  to  the  moans  of  a  bleedin' 
heart.' 

"  'My  dear  ma'am,'  says  Enright,  his  man 
ner  mollifyin';  'I  sees  nothin'  to  discuss.  The 
committee  surrenders  this  culprit  into  the 
hands  of  you-all  ladies,  an'  what  more  is  thar 
to  say?' 

"  'Thar's  this  more  to  say,'  an'  Missis  Ruck- 
er's  that  earnest  her  mouth  snaps  like  a  trap. 
'You  an'  your  gang,  settin'  round  like  a  passel 
of  badgers,  don't  want  to  get  it  into  your  heads 
that  you're  goin'  to  run  rough-shod  over  me. 
When  I  gets  ready  to  have  my  way  in  this  out 
fit,  the  prairie  dog  that  stands  in  my  path'll 
shore  wish  he'd  never  been  born.' 

"Enright  don't  say  nothin'  back,  an'  the 
balance  of  us  maintainin'  a  dignified  silence, 
Missis  Rucker,  after  a  look  all  'round,  with 
draws,  takin'  with  her  Tucson  Jennie  an'  Nell, 
Turkey  Track  in  their  midst. 

'  'Gents,'  observes  Enright,  when  they're 
shore  departed,  an'  speakin'  up  deecisive,  'ways 
must  be  deevised  to  'liminate  the  feminine  ele 
ment  from  these  yere  meetin's.  I  says  this  be 
fore,  but  the  idee  don't  seem  to  take  no  root. 
Thar's  nothin'  lovelier  than  woman,  but  by 


146        Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

virchoo  of  her  symp'thies  she's  oncap'ble  of 
exact  jestice.  Her  feelin's  lead  her,  an'  her 
heart's  above  her  head.  For  which  reasons, 
while  I  wouldn't  favor  nothin'  so  ondignified 
as  hidin'  out,  I  s'ggests  that  we  be  yereafter 
more  circumspect,  not  to  say  surreptitious,  in 
our  deelib'rations.' 

"Shore,  they're  married.  The  cer'mony 
comes  off  in  the  O.  K.  House,  an'  folks  flocks 
in  from  as  far  away  as  Deming. 

"  'If  you  was  a  chemist,  Sam,'  says  Peets, 
tryin'  to  eloocidate  what  happens  when  the 
Mockin'  Bird  learns  she's  heart-hungry  that 
a-way  for  Turkey  Track,  'you'd  onderstand. 
It's  as  though  her  love's  held  in  s'lootion,  an' 
the  jar  of  Turkey  Track's  gun  preecip'tates 
it.'  ' 

"  'Mebby  so,'  returns  Enright ;  'but  as  a 
play,  this  thing's  got  me  facin'  back'ards. 
Thar's  many  schemes  to  win  a  lady,  but  this 
yere's  the  earliest  instance  when  a  gent  shoots 
his  way  into  her  arms.' 

"  'Well,'  returns  Peets,  'you  know  the  old 
adage — to  which  of  course  thar's  exceptions.' 
Yere  he  glances  over  at  Missis  Rucker.  'It 
runs: 


How  the  Mocking  Bird  Was  Won   147 

"A  woman,  a  spaniel  an'  a  walnut  tree, 
The  more  you  beat  'em  the  better  they  be." 

"Boggs  has  been  congratchoolatin'  Turkey 
Track,  an'  kissin'  the  bride.  Texas,  as  somber 
as  a  spade  flush,  draws  Boggs  into  a  corner. 

"'That  Turkey  Track,'  says  Texas,  'con 
siders  this  a  whipsaw.  He  misses  hangin',  an' 
he  gets  the  lady.  He  feels  like  he  wins  both 
ways.  Wait!  Dan,  it  won't  be  two  years 
when  he'll  discover  that,  compar'd  to  marriage, 
hangin'  that  a- way  ain't  nothin'  more'n  a  tech- 
nical'ty.' " 


VI 

THAT   WOLFVILLE-RED   DOG   FOURTH 

"By  nacher  I'm  a  patriot,  cradle  born  and 
cradle  bred ;  my  Americanism,  second  to  none 
except  that  of  wolves  an'  rattlesnakes  an'  In 
juns  an'  sim'lar  cattle,  comes  in  the  front  door 
an'  down  the  middle  aisle;  an'  yet,  son,  I'm 
free  to  reemark  that  thar's  one  day  in  the  year, 
an*  sometimes  two,  when  I  shore  reegrets  our 
independence,  an'  wishes  thar  had  been  no 
,Yorktown  an'  never  no  Bunker  Hill." 

The  old  cattleman  tasted  his  glass  with  an 
air  weary  to  the  borders  of  dejection;  after 
which  he  took  a  pathetic  puff  at  his  pipe.  I 
knew  what  had  gone  wrong.  This  was  the 
Fifth  of  July.  We  had  just  survived  a  Fourth 
of  unusual  explosiveness,  and  the  row  and 
racket  thereof  had  worn  threadbare  the  old 
gentleman's  nerves. 

"Yes,  sir,"  he  continued,  shoving  a  'possum- 
colored  lock  back  from  his  brow,  "as  I  suffers 
through  one  of  them  calamities  miscalled  cel'- 

148 


That  Wolfville-Red  Dog  Fourth     149 

brations,  endoorin'  the  slang-whangin'  of  the 
orators  an'  bracin'  myse'f  ag'inst  the  slam- 
bangin'  of  the  guns,  to  say  nothin'  of  the  fire 
crackers  an'  kindred  Chinese  contraptions,  I 
a'preeciates  the  feelin's  of  that  Horace  Wai- 
pole  person  Colonel  Sterett  quotes  in  his  Daily 
Coyote  as  sayin',  'I  could  love  my  country,  if 
it  ain't  for  my  countrymen.' 

"Still,  comin'  down  to  the  turn,  I  reckon  it 
merely  means,  when  all  is  in,  that  I'm  gettin' 
too  plumb  old  for  comfort.  It's  five  years  now 
since  I  dare  look  in  the  glass,  for  fear  I'd  be 
tempted  to  count  the  annyooal  wrinkles  on  my 
horns. 

"It's  mighty  queer  about  folks.  Speakin' 
of  cel'brations,  for  thousands  of  years  the  only 
way  folks  has  of  expressin'  any  f eelin'  of  com- 
moonal  joy,  that  a- way,  is  to  cut  loose  in  lim 
itless  an'  onmeanin'  uproar.  Also,  their  only 
notion  of  a  public  fest'val  is  for  one  half  of 
the  outfit  to  prance  down  the  middle  of  the 
street,  while  the  other  half  banks  itse'f  ag'inst 
the  ediotic  curb  an'  looks  at  'em. 

"People  in  the  herd  ain't  got  no  intelligence. 
We  speaks  of  the  lower  anamiles  as  though 
we  just  has  it  on  'em  completely  in  the  matter 


150        Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

of  intelligence,  but  for  myse'f  I  ain't  so  shore. 
The  biggest  fool  of  a  mule-eared  deer  sawys 
enough  to  go  feedin'  up  the  wind,  makin'  so  to 
speak  a  skirmish  line  of  its  nose  to  feel  out 
ambushes.  Any  old  bull  elk  possesses  sufficient 
wisdom  to  walk  in  a  half-mile  circle,  as  a  con- 
cloodin'  act  before  reetirin'  for  the  night,  so 
that  with  him  asleep  in  the  center,  even  if  the 
wind  does  shift,  his  nose'll  still  get  ample  no 
tice  of  whatever  man  or  wolf  may  take  to  fol- 
lowin'  his  trail. 

"That's  what  them  'lower  anamiles'  does. 
An'  now  I  asks,  what  man,  goin'  about  his 
numbskull  dest'nies,  lookin'  as  plumb  wise  as 
a  too-whoo  owl  at  noon,  ever  shows  gumption 
equal  to  keepin'  the  constant  wind  in  his  face, 
or  has  the  sense  to  go  walkin'  round  himse'f 
as  he  rolls  into  his  blankets,  same  as  that  proo- 
dent  elk?  After  all,  I  takes  it  that  these  yere 
Fo'th  of  Jooly  upheavals  is  only  one  among 
the  ten  thousand  fashions  in  which  hoomanity 
eternally  onbuckles  in  expressin'  its  imbecil'ty. 

"Which  I  certainly  do  get  a  heap  disgusted 
at  times  with  the  wild  beast  called  man.  With 
all  his  bluffs  about  bein'  so  mighty  sagacious, 
I  can  sit  yere  an'  see  that,  speakin'  mental,  he 


That  Wolfville-Red  Dog  Fourth     151 

ain't  better  than  an  even  break  with  turkey 
gobblers.  Even  what  he  calls  his  science  turns 
finally  out  with  him  to  be  but  the  accepted  ig 
norance  of  to-day ;  an'  he  puts  in  every  to-mor 
row  of  his  existence  provin'  what  a  onbounded 
jackass  rabbit  he's  been  the  day  before.  It's 
otherwise  with  them  lower  anamiles ;  what  they 
knows  they  knows." 

Plainly,  something  had  to  be  done  to  fortify 
my  old  friend.  I  fell  back,  quite  as  a  matter 
of  course,  upon  that  first  aid  to  the  injured, 
another  drink,  and  motioned  the  black  waiter 
to  the  rescue.  It  did  my  old  friend  good,  that 
drink,  the  first  fruits  of  which  easier  if  not  bet 
ter  condition  being  certain  fresh  accusations 
against  himself. 

"The  trooth  is,  I'm  a  whole  lot  onused  to 
these  yere  Fo'th  of  Jooly  outbursts;  an'  so  I 
ondoubted  surfers  from  'em  more  keenly,  that 
a-way,  than  the  av'rage  gent.  You  see  we 
never  has  none  of  'em  in  Wolfville;  leastwise 
we  never  does  but  once.  On  that  single  festive 
occasion  we  shore  stubs  our  toe  some  plentiful, 
stubs  it  to  that  degree,  in  fact,  that  we  never 
feels  moved  to  buck  the  game  ag'in.  Once  is 
enough  for  Wolfville. 


152         Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

"Which  it's  the  single  failure  that  stains  the 
fame  of  the  camp.  At  that,  the  flat-out  reely 
belongs  to  Red  Dog;  or  at  least  to  Pete  Bland, 
for  which  misguided  party  the  Red  Dogs  freely 
acknowledges  reespons'bility  as  belongin'  to 
their  outfit. 

"This  yere  Eland's  dead  now  an'  deep  onder 
the  doomsday  sods.  Also,  he  died  drinkin'  like 
he'd  lived. 

"  'What's  the  malady?'  Enright  asks  Peets, 
when  the  Doc  comes  trackin'  back,  after  seein' 
the  finish  of  Bland. 

"  'No  malady  at  all,  Sam,'  says  Peets,  plumb 
cheerful  an'  frisky,  same  as  them  case-hard 
ened  drug  folks  allers  is  when  some  other  sport 
passes  in  his  checks — 'no  malady  whatsoever. 
His  jag  simply  stops  on  centers,  as  a  railroad 
gent'd  say,  an'  I'm  onable  to  start  it  ag'in.' 

"Was  Peets  any  good  as  a  med'cine  man? 
Son,  I'm  shocked!  Peets  is  packin'  'round  in 
his  professional  warbags  the  dipplomies  of 
twenty  colleges,  an'  is  onchallenged  besides  as 
the  best  eddicated  sharp  personal  on  the  sun 
set  side  of  the  Mississippi.  You  bet,  he  onder- 
stands  the  difference  at  least  between  bread 
pills  an'  buckshot,  which  is  a  heap  sight  fur- 


That  Wolfville-Red  Dog  Fourth     153 

ther  than  some  of  these  yere  drug  folks  ever 
studies. 

"Colonel  Sterett,  who's  fa'rly  careful  about 
what  he  says,  reefers  to  Peets  in  his  Daily  Coy 
ote  as  a  'intellectchooal  giant,'  an'  thar  ain't 
no  record  of  any  scoffer  comin'  squanderin' 
along  to  contradict.  Mebby  you'll  say  that 
the  omission  to  do  so  is  doo  to  the  f 'rocious 
attitoode  of  the  Daily  Coyote  itse'f,  techin' 
contradictions,  an'  p'int  to  how  that  imprint 
keeps  standin'  at  the  head  of  its  editorial  col 
umns  as  a  motto,  the  cynicism : 

"  'Contradict  the  Coyote  and  avoid  old  age!' 

"Thar'd  be  nothin'  in  it  if  you  do.  That 
motto's  only  one  of  Colonel  Sterett's  bluffs, 
one  of  his  witticisms  that  a-way.  You  don't 
reckon  that,  in  a  sparsely  settled  country,  whar 
the  pop'lation  is  few  an'  far  between,  the  Colo 
nel's  goin'  to  go  bumpin'  off  a  subscriber  over 
mebby  a  mere  difference  of  opinion?  The 
Colonel  ain't  quite  that  locoed." 

"But  about  your  Wolfville-Red  Dog  Fourth 
of  July  celebration?"  I  urged. 

"Which  I'm  in  no  temper  to  tell  a  story — me 
settin'  yere  with  every  nerve  as  tight  as  a  banjo 
catgut  jest  before  it  snaps.  To  reelate  yarns 


154         Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

your  mood  ought  to  be  the  mood  of  the  racon- 
toor — a  mood  as  rich  an'  rank  an'  upstandin' 
as  a  field  of  wheat,  ready  to  billow  an'  bend 
before  every  gale  of  fancy.  The  way  yester 
day  leaves  me,  whatever  tale  I  ondertakes  to 
reecount  would  about  come  out  of  my  mouth 
as  stiff  an'  short  an'  brittle  as  chopped  hay. 
Also,  as  tasteless.  Better  let  it  go  till  some 
other  an'  more  mellow  evenin'." 

No ;  I  was  ready  to  accept  the  chances,  and 
said  as  much.  A  chopped-hay  style,  for  a 
change,  might  be  found  acceptable.  Supple 
menting  the  declaration  with  renewed  Old  Jor 
dan,  I  was  so  far  victorious  that  my  aged  man 
of  cattle  yielded. 

"Well,  then,"  he  began  reluctantly,  "I'm 
onable  to  partic'larly  say  which  gent  does 
make  the  orig'nal  s'ggestion,  but  my  belief  is 
it's  Peets.  I'm  shore,  however,  that  the  Corn- 
wallis  idee  comes  from  Bland;  an',  since  it's 
not  only  at  that  Cornwallis  angle  we-all  falls 
publicly  down,  but  the  same  is  primar'ly  doo 
to  the  besotted  obstinacy  of  this  yere  Bland 
himse'f,  Wolfville,  while  ever  proudly  willin' 
to  b'ar  whatever  blame's  sawed  off  on  to  her 
shoulders  proper,  is  always  convinced  that  Red 


That  Wolfville-Red  Dog  Fourth      155 

Dog  an'  not  us  is  to  be  held  accountable. 
However,  Eland's  gone  an'  paid  what  the  sky 
scouts  speaks  of  as  the  debt  to  nacher,  an'  I'm 
willin'  to  confess  for  one  that  when  he's  sober 
he  ain't  so  bad.  Not  that  them  fits  of  sobriety 
is  either  so  freequent  or  so  protracted  they 
takes  on  any  color  of  monotony. 

"Eland's  baptismal  name  is  Pete,  an'  in  his 
way  he's  a  leadin'  inflooence  in  Red  Dog.  He's 
owner  of  the  7-bar-D  outfit,  y'earmark  a 
swallow-fork  in  both  y'ears — which  brands 
seventeen  hundred  calves  each  spring  round 
up  ;  an'  is  moreover  proprietor  of  the  Abe  Lin 
coln  Hotel,  the  same  bein'  Red  Dog's  princi 
pal  beanery.  Bland  don't  have  to  keep  this 
yere  tavern  none,  but  it  arranges  so  he  sees 
his  friends  an'  gets  their  dinero  at  one  an'  the 
same  time,  which  as  combinin'  business  an' 
pleasure  in  equal  degrees  appeals  to  him  a 
heap. 

"Which  it's  the  gen'ral  voice  that  the  best 
thing  about  Eland  is  his  wife.  She's  shore 
loyal  to  Bland,  you  bet!  When  they're  livin' 
in  Prescott,  an'  a  committee  of  three  from  one 
of  them  'Purification  Of  The  Home'  societies 
comes  trapesin'  in,  to  tell  her  about  Bland  be- 


156        Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

in'  ondooly  interested  in  a  exyooberant  young 
soobrette  who's  singin'  at  the  theayter,  an' 
spendin'  his  money  on  her  mighty  permiscus, 
Missis  Bland  listens  plenty  ca'm  ontil  they're 
plumb  through.  Then  she  hands  them  Puri 
fiers  this : 

"  'Well,  ladies,  I'd  a  heap  sooner  have  a  hus 
band  who  can  take  keer  of  two  women  than  a 
husband  who  can't  take  keer  of  one.' 

"After  which  she  comes  down  on  that  Puri 
fication  bunch  like  a  fallin'  star,  an'  brooms 
'em  out  of  the  house.  Accordin'  to  eye  wit 
nesses,  who  speaks  without  prejewdyce,  she 
certainly  does  dust  their  bunnets  strenuous. 

"When  Bland  hears  he  pats  Missis  Bland 
on  the  shoulder,  an'  exclaims,  'Thar's  my  troo- 
bloo  old  Betsy  Jane!  She  knows  I  wouldn't 
trade  a  look  from  them  faded  old  gray  eyes  of 
hers  for  all  the  soobretts  whoever  pulls  a  frock 
on  over  their  heads!' 

"Followin'  which  encomium  Bland  sends  to 
San  Francisco  an'  changes  in  the  money  from 
five  hundred  steers  for  an  outfit  of  diamonds, 
to  go  'round  her  neck,  an'  preesents  'em  to 
Missis  Bland. 

"  'Thar,'  he  says,  danglin'  them  gewgaws 


That  Wolfville-Red  Dog  Fourth     157 

in  the  sun,  'you  don't  notice  no  actresses  flittin' 
about  the  scene  arrayed  like  that,  do  you?  If 
so,  p'int  out  them  over-bedecked  females,  an* 
I'll  see  all  they've  got  on  an'  go  'em  five  thou 
sand  better,  if  it  calls  for  every  7-bar-D  steer 
on  the  range.' 

6  'Pete,'  says  Missis  Bland,  clampin'  on  to 
the  jooelry  with  one  hand,  an'  slidin'  the  other 
about  his  neck,  'you  certainly  are  the  kindest 
soul  who  ever  makes  a  moccasin  track  in  Ari 
zona,  besides  bein'  a  good  provider.' 

"Shore,  this  yere  Bland  ain't  so  plumb 
bad. 

"An'  after  a  fashion,  too,  he's  able  to  give 
excooses.  Talkin'  to  Peets,  he  lays  his  rather 
light  an'  frisky  habits  to  him  bein'  a  preacher's 
son. 

"  'Which  you  never,  Doc,'  he  says,  'meets 
up  with  the  son  an'  heir  of  a  pulpiteer  that 
a-way,  who  ain't  pullin'  on  the  moral  bit,  an' 
tryin'  for  a  runaway.' 

"  'At  any  rate,  Pete,'  the  Doc  replies,  all 
cautious  an'  conservative,  'I  will  say  that  if 
you're  lookin'  for  some  party  who'll  every  day 
be  steady  an'  law  abidin',  not  to  say  seedate, 
you'll  be  a  heap  more  likely  to  find  him  by; 


158        Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

searchin'  about  among  the  progeny  of  some 
party  who's  been  lynched.' 

"Recurrin'  again  to  that  miserabul  Fo'th  of 
Jooly  play  we  cuts  loose  in,  it's  that  evenin' 
when  we  invites  Red  Dog  over  in  a  body  to 
he'p  consoome  the  left-over  stock  of  lickers  in 
the  former  Votes  For  Women  S'loon,  an' 
nacherally  thar's  some  drinkin'.  As  is  not  in 
frequent  whar  thar's  drinkin',  views  is  ex 
pressed  an'  prop'sitions  made.  It's  then  we 
takes  up  the  business  of  havin'  that  cel'bra- 
tion. 

"Peets  makes  a  speech,  I  recalls,  an'  after 
dilatin'  'round  to  the  effect  that  Fo'th  of  Jooly 
ain't  but  two  weeks  ahead,  allows  that  it'd  be 
in  patriotic  line  for  us  to  do  somethin'. 

"  'Conj'intly,'  says  Peets,  'Red  Dog  an' 
Wolfville,  movin'  together  with  one  proud 
purpose  of  patriotism,  ought  to  put  over  quite 
a  show.  As  commoonities  we're  no  longer  in 
the  swaddlin'  clothes  of  infancy.  It's  time,  too, 
that  we  goes  on  record  as  a  whole  public  in 
some  manner  an'  form  best  calk'lated  to  make 
a  somnolent  East  set  up  an'  notice  us.' 

"Peets  continyoos  in  a  sim'lar  vein,  an' 
speaks  of  the  settlement  of  the  Southwest, 


That  Wolfville-Red  Dog  Fourth     159 

wharin  we  b'ars  our  part,  as  a  'Exodus  with 
out  a  prophet,  a  croosade  without  a  cross,' 
which  sent'ment  he  confesses  he  takes  from  a 
lit'rary  sport,  but  no  less  troo  for  that.  He 
closes  by  sayin'  that  if  everybody  feels  like  he 
does  Wolfville  an'  Red  Dog'll  j'ine  in  layin' 
out  a  program,  that  a-way,  which'll  shore 
spread  the  glorious  trooth  from  coast  to  coast 
that  we-all  is  on  the  map  to  stay. 

"It's  a  credit  to  both  outfits,  how  yoonani- 
mously  the  s'ggestion  is  took  up.  Which  I 
never  does  see  a  public  go  all  one  way  so  plumb 
quick,  an'  with  so  little  struggle,  since  B'ar 
Creek  Stanton  is  lynched;  which  act  of  jestice 
even  has  the  absoloote  endorsement  of  B'ar 
Creek  himse'f . 

"Peets  is  no  sooner  done  talkin'  than  Tutt 
stacks  in. 

"  "Thar's  our  six-shooters,'  says  he,  'for  the 
foosilade;  an',  as  for  moosic,  sech  as  "Columbia 
the  Gem"  an'  the  "Star  Spangled  Banner,"  we 
can  round  up  them  Dutchmen,  who's  the  or 
chestra  over  at  the  Bird  Cage  Op'ry  House.' 

"The  talk  rambles  on,  one  word  borryin'  an 
other,  ontil  we  outlines  quite  a  game.  Thar's 
to  be  a  procession  between  Wolfville  an'  Red 


160        Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

Dog,  an'  back  ag'in,  Faro  Nell  leadin'  the 
same  on  a  pinto  pony  as  the  Goddess  of  Lib 
erty. 

6  'An'  that  reeminds  me,'  submits  Cherokee, 
when  we  reaches  Nell ;  'thar's  Missis  Rucker. 
It's  goin'  to  hurt  her  feelin's  to  be  left  out.  As 
the  preesidin'  genius  of  the  O.  K.  Restauraw 
she's  in  shape  to  give  us  a  racket  we'll  despise 
in  eevent  she  gets  her  back  up.' 

'  'How  about  lettin'  her  in  on  the  play,' 
says  Boggs,  'an'  typ'fyin'  Jestice,  that 
a- way?' 

"  Thar's  a  idee,  Dan,'  says  Texas  Thomp 
son,  'which  plugs  the  center,  a  reecommenda- 
tion  which  does  you  proud!  Down  in  that 
Laredo  Co't  House  whar  my  wife  wins  out  her 
divorce  that  time,  thar's  a  figger  of  Jestice 
painted  on  the  wall.  Shore,  it  don't  mean 
nothin';  but  all  the  same  it's  thar,  dressed  in 
white,  that  a-way,  with  eyes  bandaged,  an' 
packin'  a  sword  in  one  hand  an'  holdin'  aloft 
some  balances  in  t'other.  Come  to  think  of  it, 
too,  that  picture  shore  looks  a  lot  like  Missis 
Rucker  in  the  face,  bein'  plumb  haughty  an' 
commandinV 

"  'Missis  Rucker  not  bein'  yere  none,'  says 


That  Wolfville-Red  Dog  Fourth     161 

Enright  softly,  an'  peerin'  about  some  cau 
tious,  'I  submits  that  while  no  more  esteemable 
lady  ever  tosses  a  flapjack  or  fries  salt-hoss 
in  a  pan,  her  figger  is  mebby  jest  a  trifle  too 
abundant.  As  Jestice,  she'll  nacherally  be  ar 
rayed — as  Texas  says — in  white,  same  as  Nell 
as  the  Goddess.  I  don't  want  to  seem  teeh- 
nicle,  but  white  augments  the  size  of  folks  an' 
will  make  the  lady  in  question  look  bigger'n  a 
load  of  hay.' 

'  'Even  so,'  reemarks  the  Red  Dog  chief  in 
dulgently,  'would  that  of  itse'f ,  I  asks,  be  reck 
oned  any  setback?  The  lady  will  person'fy 
Jestice;  an'  as  sech  I  submits  she  can't  look 
none  too  big.' 

"In  compliment  to  the  Red  Dog  chief  En- 
right,  with  a  p'lite  flourish,  allows  that  he 
yields  his  objection  with  pleasure,  an'  Missis 
Rucker  is  put  down  for  Jestice.  It's  agreed 
likewise  to  borry  a  coach  from  the  stage  com 
pany  for  her  to  ride  on  top. 

"  'Her  bein'  preeclooded,'  explains  Peets, 
'from  ridin'  a  hoss  that  a-way,  as  entirely 
ondignified  if  not  onsafe.  We  can  rig  her  up 
a  throne  with  one  of  the  big  splint-bottom 
cha'rs  from  the  Red  Light,  an'  wrop  the  same 


162         Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

in  the  American  flag  so's  to  make  it  look 
offishul.' 

"Tucson  Jennie,  with  little  Enright  Peets  as 
the  Hope  of  the  Republic,  is  to  ride  inside  the 
coach. 

"Havin'  got  this  far,  Pete  Bland  submits 
that  a  tellin'  number  would  be  a  sham  battle, 
Red  Dog  ag'in  Wolfville. 

"Thar's  opp'sition  developed  to  this.  Both 
Enright  an'  the  Red  Dog  chief,  as  leaders  of 
pop'lar  feelin',  is  afraid  that  some  sport'll  for 
get  that  it  ain't  on  the  level,  an'  take  to  over- 
actin'  his  part. 

"As  the  Red  Dog  chief  expresses  it : 

"  'Some  gent  might  be  so  far  carried  away 
by  enthoosiasm  as  to  go  to  shootin'  low,  an* 
some  other  gent  get  creased.' 

'The  same  bein'  my  notion  exact,'  Enright 
chips  in.  'Of  course,  the  gent  who  thus  shoots 
low  would  ondenyably  do  so  onintentional ; 
but  what  good  would  that  do  the  party  who's 
been  winged,  an'  who  mightn't  live  long 
enough  to  receive  apol'gies?' 

"'That's  whatever!'  says  Jack  Moore.  'A 
sham  battle's  too  plumb  apt  to  prove  a  snare. 
The  more,  since  everybody's  so  onused  to  'em 


That  Wolfville-Red  Dog  Fourth     163 

'round  yere.  A  gent,  by  keepin'  his  mind  firm 
fixed,  might  manage  to  miss  once  or  twice ;  but 
soon  or  late  he'd  become  preoccupied,  an' 
bust  some  of  the  opp'sition  before  he  could 
ketch  himse'f.' 

"Bland,  seem'  opinion's  ag'inst  a  sham  bat 
tle,  withdraws  the  motion,  an'  does  it  plenty 
graceful  for  a  gent  who's  enable  to  stand. 

"  'Enough  said,'  he  remarks,  wavin'  a  ac 
quiescent  paw.  'Ante,  an'  pass  the  buck.' 

"The  Lightnin'  Bug,  speakin'  from  the  Red 
Dog  side,  insists  that  in  the  reg'lar  course  of 
things  thar's  bound  to  be  oratory.  In  that 
connection  he  mentions  a  sharp  who  lives  in 
Phoenix. 

"  'Which  I'm  shore,'  says  the  Bug,  'he'd  be 
gladly  willin'  to  assist;  an'  you  hear  me  he's 
got  a  tongue  of  fire!  Some  of  you-all  sports 
must  have  crossed  up  with  him — Jedge  Beebe 
of  Phoenix?' 

'  'Jedge  Beebe?'  inter jecks  Monte,  who's 
given  a  hostler  his  proxy  to  take  out  the  stage 
because  of  thar  bein'  onlimited  licker;  'me  an' 
the  Jedge  stands  drinkin'  together  for  hours 
the  last  time  he's  in  Tucson.  But  you're  plumb 
wrong,  Bug,  about  him  bein'  eloquent.' 


164         Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

"  'Wrong?'  the  Bug  repeats,  mighty  indig 
nant. 

"  'Of  course,'  says  Monte,  rememberin'  how 
easy  heated  the  Bug  is,  an'  that  he  looks  on 
six-shooters  as  argyooments,  'I  don't  mean  he 
can't  talk  none;  only  he  ain't  what  the  Doc 
yere  calls  no  Demosthenes.' 

"  'Did  you  ever  hear  the  Jedge  talk?'  de 
mands  the  Bug. 

'Which  I  shore  does,'  insists  Monte;  'I 
listens  to  him  for  two  hours  that  time  in  Tuc 
son.  It's  when  they  opens  the  Broadway 
Dance  Hall.' 

"'Whatever  is  his  subject?'  asks  the  Bug, 
layin'  for  to  ketch  Monte;  'what's  the  Jedge 
talkin'  about?' 

"  'I  don't  know,'  says  Monte,  wropped  in 
his  usual  mantle  of  whiskey-soaked  innocence ; 
'he  didn't  say.' 

"The  Bug's  eyes  comes  together  in  a  angry 
focus ;  he  thinks  he's  bein'  made  game  of. 

"Tharupon  Enright  cuts  in. 

"  'Bug,'  he  says,  all  sociable  an'  suave,  'you 
mustn't  mind  Monte.  He's  so  misconstructed 
that  followin'  the  twenty-fifth  drink  he  goes 
about  takin'  his  ignorance  for  information. 


That  Wolfville-Red  Dog  Fourth     165 

No  one  doubts  but  you're  a  heap  better  jedge 
than  him  of  eloquence,  an'  everything  else  ex 
cept  nosepaint.  S'ppose  you  consider  your- 
se'f  a  committee  to  act  for  the  con'jint  camps, 
an'  invite  this  yere  joorist  to  be  present  as 
orator  of  the  day.' 

"The  Bug's  brow  cl'ars  at  this,  an'  he  as- 
shores  Enright  that  he'll  be  proud  to  act  as 
sech. 

"  'An',  gents,'  he  adds,  *if  you  says  he  ain't 
got  Patrick  Henry  beat  to  a  standstill,  may  I 
never  hold  as  good  as  aces-up  ag'in.' 

"The  Red  Dog  chief  announces  that  all 
hands  must  attend  a  free-for-all  banquet  which, 
inflooenced  by  the  tenth  drink,  he  then  an' 
thar  decides  to  give  at  Eland's  Abe  Lincoln 
House. 

"  'Said  banquet,'  he  explains,  'bein'  in  the 
nacher  of  a  lunch  to  be  held  at  high  noon.  If 
the  dinin'  room  of  the  Abe  Lincoln  House 
ain't  spacious  enough,  an  I'll  say  right  yere 
it  ain't,  we'll  teetotaciously  set  them  tables  in 
the  street.  That's  my  style!  I  wants  every 
body,  bar  Mexicans,  to  be  present.  When  I 
gives  a  blow-out,  I  goes  f  o'th  into  the  highways 
an'  byways,  an'  asks  the  halt  an'  the  lame  an' 


166         Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

the  blind,  like  the  good  book  says.  Also,  no 
gent  need  go  prowlin'  'round  for  no  weddin' 
garments  wharin  to  come.  Which  he's  wel 
come  to  show  up  in  goat-skin  laiggin's,  or  ap 
pear  wropped  in  the  drippin'  an'  offensive  pelt 
of  a  wet  dog.' 

"The  Red  Dog  chief,  lest  some  of  us  is  sen- 
s'tive,  goes  on  to  add  that  no  gent  is  to  regyard 
them  cracks  about  the  halt  an'  the  lame  an'  the 
blind  as  aimed  at  Wolfville.  He  allows  he 
ain't  that  invidious,  an'  in  what  he  says  is 
merely  out  to  be  both  euphonious  an'  explicit, 
that  a-way,  at  one  an'  the  same  time. 

"To  which  Enright  reesponds  that  no  offence 
is  took,  an'  asshores  the  Red  Dog  chief  that 
Wolfville  will  attend  the  banquet  all  spraddled 
out. 

"More  licker,  followed  by  gen'ral  congratu 
lations. 

"Bland  ag'in  comes  surgin'  to  the  fore.  This 
time  he  thinks  that  as  a  main  f  eachure  it  would 
be  a  highly  effective  racket  to  reenact  the  sur 
render  of  Cornwallis  to  Washington. 

"Tutt  goes  weavin'  across  to  shake  his 
hand. 

"  'Some  folks  allows,  Pete,'  says  Tutt,  'that 


That  Wolfville-Eed  Dog  Fourth     167 

you're  as  whiskey- soaked  an  old  fool  as  Monte. 
But  not  me,  Pete,  not  your  old  pard,  Dave 
Tutt !  An'  you  hear  me,  Pete,  that  idee  about 
Cornwallis  givin'  up  his  sword  to  Washington 
demonstrates  it.' 

"  *  You  bet  your  life  it  does !'  says  Bland. 

"  'But  is  this  yere  surrender  feasible?'  asks 
Texas.  'Which,  at  first  blink,  it  seems  some 
cumbrous  to  me.' 

"  'It's  as  easy  as  turnin'  jack,'  declar's  Tutt, 
takin'  the  play  away  from  Bland.  'I've  seen 
it  done.' 

"  'As  when  an'  whar?'  puts  in  Cherokee. 

"  'Thar's  a  time,'  says  Tutt— 'it's  way  back 
— when  I  sets  into  a  little  poker  game  over  in 
El  Paso,  table  stakes  she  is,  an'  cleans  up  for 
about  $10,000.  For  mebby  a  week  I  goes 
'round  thinkin'  that  $10,000  is  a  million;  an' 
after  that  I  simply  knows  it  is.  These  yere 
onnacheral  riches  onhinges  me  to  a  p'int  whar 
I  deecides  I'll  visit  Chicago  an'  Noo  York,  as 
calk'lated  to  broaden  me.' 

"'Noo  York! — Chicago!'  interrupts  the 
Bug.  'I  once  deescends  upon  them  hamlets, 
an'  I  encounters  this  yere  strikin'  difference. 
In  Chicago  they  wouldn't  let  me  spend  a  dol- 


168        Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

lar,  while  in  Noo  York  they  wouldn't  let  any 
body  else  spend  one.' 

"  'It's  otherwise  with  me,'  goes  on  Tutt,  'be 
cause  for  a  windup  I  don't  see  neither.  I'm 
young  then,  d'  you  see,  an'  affected  by  yooth 
an'  wealth  I  takes  to  licker,  with  the  result  that 
I  goes  pervadin'  up  an'  down  the  train,  insistin' 
on  becomin'  person'ly  known  to  the  passen 
gers.' 

"  'An'  nacherally  you  gets  put  off,'  says 
Boggs. 

"  'Not  exactly,  neither.  Only  the  conductor, 
assisted  by  a  bevy  of  brakemen,  lays  the  thing 
before  me  in  sech  a  convincin'  shape  that  I 
gets  off  of  my  own  accord.  It  seems  that  to 
be  agree'ble,  I  proposes  wedlock  to  a  middle- 
aged  schoolmarm,  who  allows  that  she  sees  no 
objection  except  I'm  a  perfect  stranger.  She 
says  it  ain't  been  customary  with  her  much  to 
go  weddin'  strangers  that  a-way,  but  if  I'll 
get  myse'f  reg'larly  introdooced,  an'  then  give 
her  a  day  or  so  to  become  used  to  my  looks, 
she'll  go  me.  It's  then  the  conductor  draws 
me  aside,  an'  says,  "I've  a  son  about  your  age, 
my  eboolient  young  sport,  which  is  why  I 
takes  your  part.  My  theery  is  that  if  you 


That  Wolfville-Red  Dog  Fourth     169 

sticks  aboard  this  train  ontil  we  reaches  Rock 
Island,  you'll  never  leave  that  village  a  single 


man." 


"  'This  sobers  me,'  Tutt  continyoos,  'an'  I 
hides  in  the  baggage  kyar  ontil  we  reaches 
a  camp  called  Sedalia,  whar  I  quietly  makes 
my  escape.  I'm  that  reelieved  I  gives  the  cab 
man  $20  to  let  me  drive,  an'  then  starts  in  to 
wake  things  up.  Which  I  shore  wakes  'em! 
I  comes  down  the  main  street  like  the  breath  of 
destiny;  an',  say,  you  ought  to  see  them  Mis- 
sourians  climb  trees,  an'  gen'rally  break  for 
cover!  It  costs  me  $50;  an'  the  jedge  gives 
me  his  word  that,  only  it's  the  Fo'th  of  Jooly, 
he'd  have  handed  me  two  weeks  in  the  cala 
boose.  I  clinks  down  the  fifty  pesos  some 
grateful,  an'  goes  bulgin'  forth  to  witness  the 
cer'monies.  She's  a  jo-darter,  that  Sedalia 
cel'bration  is !  As  Pete  yere  recommends,  they 
pulls  off  the  surrender  of  Cornwallis  on  the 
Fair  grounds.  Also,  it's  plumb  easy.  All  you 
needs  is  mebby  a  couple  of  hundred  folks  on 
bosses,  an'  after  that  the  rest's  like  rollin'  off 
a  log.' 

"More  is  said  as  the  drink  goes  round,  an' 
Cornwallis  surrenderin'  to  Washington  takes 


170        Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

hold  of  our  imaginations.  We  throws  dice, 
an'  settles  it  that  Red  Dog'll  be  the  English, 
with  Bland  as  Cornwallis,  while  Wolfville  acts 
as  the  Americans,  Boggs  to  perform  as  Wash 
ington — Boggs  bein'  six  foot  an'  some  inches, 
besides  as  wide  as  a  door.  By  the  time  we  gets 
the  stock  of  the  Votes  for  Women  S'loon  fully 
drinked  up  everything's  arranged. 

"Onless  you  sees  no  objections,  son,  I'll  gal 
lop  through  the  balance  of  this  yere  painful 
eepisode.  The  day  comes  round,  bright  an' 
cl'ar,  an'  the  Copper  Queen  people  gen'rously 
starts  the  ball  a-rollin'  by  explodin'  thirteen 
cans  of  powder,  one  for  each  of  the  orig'nal 
states.  Then  the  procession  forms,  Nell  in 
front  as  the  Goddess.  Thar's  full  two  hun 
dred  of  us,  Wolfville  an'  Red  Dog,  on  ponies. 
As  to  Missis  Rucker,  she's  on  top  of  the  coach 
as  Jestice,  Tucson  Jennie — with  little  Enright 
Peets  lookin'  like  a  young  he  cherub — inside, 
an'  Monte  pullin'  the  reins  over  the  six  bosses. 
We  makes  four  trips  between  Wolfville  an' 
Red  Dog,  crackin'  off  our  good  old  '45s  at  ir- 
reg'lar  intervals,  Nell  on  her  calico  pony  as 
the  Goddess  bustin'  away  with  the  rest. 

"Little  Enright  Peets  wants  in  on  the  pistol 


That   Wolfville-Red  Dog  Fourth    171 

shootin',  an'  howls  jes'  like  a  coyote — as  chil 
dren  will — ontil  Boggs,  who  foresees  it  an' 
comes  provided,  gives  him  a  baby  pistol,  a  box 
of  blank  cartridges,  an'  exhorts  him  to  cut 
loose.  Which  little  Enright  Peets  shore  cuts 
loose,  all  right;  an',  except  that  he  sets  fire  to 
the  coach  a  few  times,  an'  makes  Missis  Rucker 
oneasy  up  on  top — her  f  earin'  that  mebby  some 
of  them  blanks  has  bullets  in  'em  by  mistake — 
he  has  a  perfectly  splendid  time. 

"The  procession  over,  we  eats  up  the  Red 
Dog  chief's  banquet,  wharat  every  brand  of 
airtights  is  introdooced.  That  done,  we  listens 
to  Jedge  Beebe,  who  soars  an'  sails  an'  sails 
an'  soars,  rhetorical,  for  mebby  it's  a  hour,  an' 
is  that  eloquent  an'  elevated  he  never  hits  noth- 
in'  but  the  highest  places. 

"The  Red  Dog  chief  makes  a  speech,  an' 
proposes  'Wolfville' ;  to  which  Peets — by  En- 
right's  request — reesponds,  an'  offers  'Red 
Dog.'  It's  bottoms  up  to  both  sentiments; 
for  thar's  no  negligence  about  the  drinks, 
Black  Jack  havin'  capered  fraternally  over  to 
he'p  out  his  overworked  barkeep  brother  of 
the  Red  Dog  Tub  of  Blood. 

"When  no  one  wants  to  further  drink  or  eat 


172        Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

or  talk,  we  reepa'rs  to  a  level  place  between 
the  two  camps  to  go  through  the  Cornwallis' 
surrender.  The  rival  forces  is  arrayed  opp'- 
site,  Cornwallis  Bland  in  a  red  coat,  an'  Wash 
ington  Boggs  in  bloo  an'  buff,  accordin'  to  the 
teachin's  of  hist'ry.  Both  of  'em  has  sabers 
donated  from  the  Fort. 

"When  all's  ready  Washington  Boggs  an' 
Cornwallis  Bland  rides  out  in  front  ontil 
they're  in  easy  speakin'  distance.  Cornwallis 
Eland's  been  over-drinkin'  some,  an'  is  w'arin' 
a  mighty  deefiant  look. 

"After  a  spell,  nothin'  bein'  spoke  on  either 
side,  Washington  Boggs  calls  out: 

"  'Is  this  yere  Gen'ral  Cornwallis?' 

"  'Who  you  talkin'  to?'  demands  Cornwallis 
Bland,  a  heap  contemptuous  an'  insolent. 

"Peets  has  done  writ  out  words  for  'em  to 
say,  but  neither  uses  'em.  Observin'  how 
Cornwallis  Bland  conducts  himse'f,  Washing 
ton  Boggs  waves  his  sword  plenty  vehement, 
which  makes  his  pony  cavort  an'  buck  jump,  an' 
roars : 

"  'Don't  you  try  to  play  nothin'  on  me,  Gen' 
ral  Cornwallis.  Do  you  or  do  you  not  sur 
render  your  mis'rable  blade?' 


That  Wolf  vine-Red  Dog  Fourth    178 

"'Surrender  nothinT  Cornwallis  Bland 
sneers  back,  meanwhile  reelin'  in  his  saddle. 
'Thar's  never  the  horned-toad  clanks  a  spur 
in  Cochise  County  can  make  me  surrender. 
Likewise,  don't  you-all  go  wavin'  that  fool 
weepon  at  me  none.  I  don't  valyoo  it  more'n 
if  it's  a  puddin'  stick.  Which  I've  got  one  of 
'em  myse'f ' — yere  he'd  have  lopped  off  one  of 
his  pony's  y'ears,  only  it's  so  dull — 'an'  I 
wouldn't  give  it  to  a  yellow  pup  to  play  with.' 

"  'For  the  last  time,  Cornwallis,'  says  Wash 
ington  Boggs,  face  aflame  with  rage,  'I  com 
mands  you  to  surrender.' 

"  'Don't  let  him  bluff  you,  Pete,'  yells  a 
bumptious  young  cow-puncher  who  belongs  on 
the  Red  Dog-English  side.  'Which  we  can 
wipe  up  the  plains  with  that  Wolfville  outfit.' 

"The  Red  Dog  chief  bats  the  young  trouble- 
makin'  cow-puncher  over  the  head  with  his 
gun,  an'  quietly  motions  to  the  Lightnin'  Bug 
an'  a  fellow  Red  Dog  to  pack  what  reemains 
of  him  to  the  r'ar.  This  done,  he  turns  to  ree- 
monstrate  with  Cornwallis  Bland  for  his  obsti- 
nancy.  He's  too  late.  Washington  Boggs, 
who's  stood  all  he  will,  drives  the  spurs  into 
his  pony,  an'  next  with  a  bound  an'  a  rush,  he 


Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 


hits  Cornwallis  Bland  an'  his  charger  full 
chisle. 

"The  pony  of  Cornwallis  Bland  fa'rly  swaps 
ends  with  itse'f,  an'  Cornwallis  would  have 
swapped  ends  with  it,  too,  only  Washington 
Boggs  collars  an'  hefts  him  out  of  his 
saddle. 

"  'Now,  you  onwashed  drunkard,  will  you 
surrender?'  roars  Washington  Boggs,  shakin' 
Cornwallis  Bland  like  a  dog  does  a  rat,  ontil 
that  British  leader  drops  all  of  his  hardware, 
incloosive  of  his  pistol  —  'now  will  you  surren 
der,  or  must  I  break  your  back  across  your  own 
pony,  as  showin'  you  the  error  of  your  ways?' 

"It  looks  like  thar's  goin'  to  be  a  hostile 
comminglin'  of  all  hands,  when  —  her  ha'r 
streamin'  behind  her  same  as  if  she's  a  comet 
•  —  Missis  Bland  comes  chargin'  up. 

"  'Yere,  you  drunken  villyun!'  she  screams 
to  Boggs,  'give  me  my  husband  this  instant, 
onless  you  wants  me  to  far  your  eyes  out!' 

"  'It's  him  who's  to  blame,  ma'am,'  says  En- 
right  mildly,  comin'  to  Boggs'  rescoo;  'which 
he  won't  surrender.' 

"  'Oh,  he  won't,  won't  he?'  says  Missis 
Bland,  as  she  hooks  onto  Cornwallis  Bland. 


That  Wolfville-Red  Dog  Fourth    175 

'You  bet  he'll  surrender  to  me  all  right,  or  I'll 
know  why.' 

"As  the  Red  Dog  chief  is  apol'gizin'  to  En- 
right,  who's  tellin'  him  not  to  mind,  Cornwallis 
Bland  is  bein'  half  shoved  an'  half  drug,  not 
to  mention  wholly  yanked,  towards  the  Abe 
Lincoln  House  by  Missis  Bland. 

"That's  the  end.  This  yere  ontoward  finale 
to  our  cel'bration  gets  wide-flung  notice  in 
print,  an'  instead  of  bein'  a  boost,  as  we-all 
hopes,  Wolfville  an'  Red  Dog  becomes  a  jest 
an'  jeer.  Also,  while  it  don't  sour  the  friendly 
relations  of  the  two  camps,  the  simple  mention 
of  Fo'th  of  Jooly  leaves  a  bitter  taste  in  the 
Wolfville-Red  Dog  mouth  ever  since." 


VII 

PROPRIETY  PRATT,,  HYPNOTIST 

"Do  I  ever  see  any  folks  get  hypnotized? 
Which  I  witnesses  a  few  sech  instances.  But 
it's  usually  done  with  a  gun.  If  you're  yearn- 
in'  to  behold  a  party  go  into  a  trance  plumb 
successful  an'  abrupt,  get  the  drop  on  him. 
Thar  ain't  one  sport  in  a  hundred  who  can 
look  into  the  muzzle  of  a  Colt's  .45,  held  by  a 
competent  hand,  without  lapsin'  into  what 
Peets  calls  a  'cataleptic  state.' 

"Shore,  son,  I  sawys  what  you  means." 

The  last  was  because  I  had  begun  to  ex 
hibit  signs  of  impatience  at  what  I  regarded  as 
a  too  flippant  spirit  on  the  part  of  my  old 
cattleman.  In  the  polite  kindliness  of  his 
nature  he  made  haste  to  smooth  down  my  fur. 

"To  be  shore  I  onderstands  you.  As  to  the 
real  thing  in  hypnotism,  however,  thar  arises 
as  I  recalls  eevents  but  few  examples  in  Ari 
zona.  The  Southwest  that  a-way  ain't  the  troo 
field  for  them  hypnotists,  the  weak-minded 

176 


Propriety  Pratt,  Hypnotist         177 

among  the  pop'lation  bein'  redooced  to  mini- 
muni.  Now  an'  then  of  course  some  hypnotic 
maverick,  who's  strayed  from  the  eastern 
range,  takes  to  trackin'  'round  among  us  sort 
o'  blind  an'  permiscus.  But  he  never  stays 
long,  an'  is  generally  tickled  to  death  when, 
some  vig'lance  committee  so  far  reelents  as  to 
let  him  escape  back. 

"Over  in  Bernilillo  once,  I'm  present  when 
a  mob  gets  its  rope  onto  one  of  these  yere  wiz 
ards,  an'  it's  nothin'  but  the  mercy  of  hell  an* 
the  mean  pars'mony  of  what  outcasts  has  him 
in  charge,  which  saves  him  from  bein'  swung 
up.  Mind  you,  it  ain't  no  vig'lance  committee, 
but  a  mob,  that's  got  him. 

"Whatever  is  the  difference? 

"Said  difference,  son,  is  as  a  spanless  gulf. 
A  vig'lance  committee  is  the  coolest  kind  of 
comin'  together  of  the  integrity  an'  the  brains 
of  a  commoonity.  A  mob,  on  the  other  hand, 
is  a  chance-blown  convention  of  deestruction- 
ists,  as  savagely  brainless  as  a  pack  of  timber 
wolves.  A  vig'lance  committee  seeks  jestice; 
a  mob  is  merely  out  for  blood." 

"About  this  Bernilillo  business?" 

The  old  gentleman,  as  though  the  recital 


178        Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

might  take  some  time,  signalled  the  black  at 
tendant  to  bring  refreshments.  The  bottle 
comfortably  at  his  elbow,  he  proceeded. 

"I  was  thar,  as  I  says,  but  I  takes  no  part 
for  either  'yes9  or  'no,'  bein'  no  more'n  simply 
a  looker  on  in  Vienna,'  as  the  actor  party  ob 
serves  over  in  the  Bird  Cage  Op'ry  House. 
Thar's  one  of  them  hypnotizin'  sharps  who's 
come  bulgin'  into  Bernilillo  to  give  a  show. 
Nacherally  the  local  folks  raps  for  a  show 
down;  they  insists  he  entrance  some  one  they 
knows,  an'  refooses  to  be  put  off  by  him  hyp 
notizin'  what  herd  of  hirelin's  he's  brought  with 
him,  on  the  argyooment  that  them  humbugs  is 
in  all  likelihood  but  cappers  for  his  game. 

"Thus  stood  up,  the  professor,  as  he  calls 
himself,  begins  rummagin'  'round  for  a  sub 
ject.  Thar's  a  little  Frenchman  who's  been 
pervadin'  about  Bernilillo,  claimin'  to  be  a 
artist.  Which  he's  shore  a  painter  all  right.  I 
sees  him  myse'f  take  a  bresh  an'  a  batch  of  col 
ors,  an'  paint  a  runnin'  iron  so  it  looks  so  much 
like  wood  it  floats.  Shore;  Emil — which  this 
yere  genius'  name  is  Emil — as  a  artist  that 
a- way  is  as  good  as  jacks-up  before  the  draw. 

"The  hypnotic  professor  runs  his  eye  over 


Propriety  Pratt,  Hypnotist         179 


the  audjence.  In  a  moment  he's  onto  Emil, 
an'  begins  to  w'irl  his  hypnotic  rope.  It's  Emil 
bein'  thin  an'  weakly  an'  bloodless,  I  reckon, 
that  attracts  him.  This  yere  Emil  ain't  got 
bodily  stren'th  to  hold  his  own  ag'in  a  high 
wind,  an'  the  professor  is  on  at  a  glance  that, 
considered  from  standp'ints  of  hypnotism,  he 
ought  to  be  a  push-over. 

"Emil  don't  hone  to  be  no  subject,  but  them 
Bernilillo  hold-ups  snatches  onto  him  in  spite 
of  his  protests,  an'  passes  him  up  onto  the 
stage  to  the  professor.  They're  plenty  head 
long,  not  to  say  boorish,  them  Bernilillo  ruf 
fians  be;  speshully  if  they've  sot  their  hearts  on 
anythin',  an'  pore  Emil  stands  about  the  same 
show  among  'em  as  a  cottontail  rabbit  among 
a  passel  of  owls. 

"For  myse'f,  I  allers  adheres  to  a  theery 
that  what  follows  is  to  be  laid  primar'ly  to  the 
door  of  the  Bernilillo  pop'lace.  Which  it's 
themselves,  not  the  professor,  they'd  oughter've 
strung  up.  You  see  this  Emil  artist  person 
blinks  out  onder  the  spells  of  the  professor, 
an'  never  does  come  to  no  more.  The  profes 
sor  hypnotizes  Emil,  but  he  can't  onhypnotize 
him.  Thar  he  sets  as  dead  as  Davy  Crockett. 


180        Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

"This  yere  Emil  bein'  shore  dead,  Bernilillo 
sent'ment  begins  to  churn  an'  wax  active.  Thar 
ain't  a  well-conditioned  vig'lance  committee 
between  the  Pecos  an'  the  Colorado  which, 
onder  the  circumstances,  would  have  dreamed 
of  stretchin'  that  professor.  What  he  does, 
them  Bernilillo  dolts  forces  him  to  do.  As  for 
deceased,  his  ontimely  evaporation  that  a-way 
is  but  the  frootes  of  happenstance. 

"What  cares  the  Bernilillo  pop 'lace,  wolf 
hungry  for  blood?  In  the  droppin'  of  a  som 
brero  they've  cinched  onto  the  professor,  an' 
the  only  question  left  open  is  whether  they'll 
string  him  up  to  the  town  windmill  or  the  sign 
in  front  of  the  First  National  Bank. 

"While  them  Bernilillo  wolves  is  howlin'  an' 
mobbin'  an'  millin'  'round  the  professor — who 
himse'f  is  scared  plumb  speechless  an'  is  as 
white  as  a  lump  of  chalk — relief  pushes  to  the 
front  in  most  onexpected  shape.  It's  a  kyard 
sharp  by  the  name  of  Singleton,  otherwise 
called  the  Planter,  who  puts  himse'f  in  nom'- 
nation  to  extricate  the  professor. 

"Climbin'  onto  the  top  step  in  front  of  the 
bank,  the  Planter  lifts  up  his  voice  for  a  hear- 
in'. 


Propriety  Pratt,  Hypnotist         181 

"'Folks!'  he  shouts,  Tm  in  favor  of  this 
yere  lynchin'  like  a  landslide.  But,  all  the 
same,  thar's  a  bet  we  overlooks.  It's  up  to  us 
not  only  to  be  jest,  but  to  be  gen'rous.  This 
yere  murderer,  who's  done  blotted  out  the  only 
real  artist  I  ever  meets  except  myse'f,  has  a 
wife  down  to  the  hotel.  As  incident  to  these 
festiv'ties  she's  goin'  to  be  a  widow.  Is  it  for 
the  manhood  an'  civic  virchoo  of  Bernilillo  to 
leave  a  widow  of  its  own  construction  broke  an' 
without  a  dollar?  I  hears  the  incensed  echoes 
from  the  Black  Range  roarin'  back  in  scornful 
accents  "No!"  Sech  bein'  the  sityooation,  as 
preelim'nary  to  this  yere  hangin'  I  moves  we 
takes  up  a  collection  for  that  widow.  Yere's 
a  fifty  to  'nitiate  the  play' — at  this  p'int  the 
Planter  throws  a  fifty-dollar  bill  into  his  hat — 
'an'  as  I  passes  among  you  I  wants  every  sport 
to  come  across,  lib'ral  an'  free,  an'  prove  to  the 
world  lookin'  on  that  Bernilillo  is  the  band  of 
onbelted  philanthropists  which  mankind's 
allers  believed. 

"Hat  in  hand,  same  as  if  it's  a  contreebu- 
tion  box  an'  he's  passin'  the  platter  in  church, 
the  Planter  begins  goin'  in  an'  out  through  the 
multitood  like  a  meadowlark  through  standin* 


182         Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

grass.  That  is,  he  starts  to  go  in  an'  out ;  but, 
at  the  first  motion,  that  entire  lynchin'  party 
exhales  like  mist  on  the  mornin'  mountains. 
It's  the  same  as  flappin'  a  blanket  at  a  bunch 
of  cattle.  Every  profligate  of  'em,  at  the  su'- 
gestion  he  contreebute  to  the  widow,  gets 
stampeded,  an'  thar's  nobody  left  but  the 
Planter,  the  professor,  an'  me. 

"  'Which  I  shore  knows  how  to  tech  them 
ground-hawgs  on  the  raw,'  says  the  Planter, 
as  he  onlooses  the  professor.  'If  I  was  to  have 
p'inted  a  gun  at  'em  now,  they'd've  give  me  a 
battle.  But  bein'  to  the  last  man  jack  a  bunch 
of  onmitigated  misers,  a  threat  leveled  at  their 
bankrolls  sets  'em  to  hidin'  out  like  quail!' 

"The  professor? 

"The  instant  he's  laig-free,  an'  without  so 
much  as  pausin'  to  congrachoolate  his  pree- 
server  on  the  power  of  his  eloquence,  he  van* 
ishes  into  the  night.  He's  headin'  towards 
Vegas  as  he's  lost  to  sight,  an'  I  learns  later 
from  Russ  Kishler  he  makes  that  meetropolis 
more  or  less  used  up.  No;  he  don't  have  no 
wife.  That  flight  of  fancy  is  flung  off  by  the 
Planter  simply  as  furnishin'  'atmosphere.' 

"Wolfville  never  gets  honored  but  once  by 


Propriety  Pratt,  Hypnotist         183 

the  notice  of  a  hypnotist.  This  yere  party 
don't  proclaim  himse'f  as  sech,  but  bills  his  little 
game  as  that  of  a  'magnetic  healer,'  an'  allows 
in  words  a  foot  high  that  he's  out  to  'make  the 
deef  hear,  the  blind  see,  the  lame  to  walk  an* 
the  halt  to  skip  an'  gambol  as  doth  the  hillside 
lamb.'  Also,  on  them  notices,  the  same  bein' 
the  bigness  of  a  hoss-blanket  an'  hung  up  lib'- 
ral  in  the  Red  Light,  the  post  office,  the  Dance 
Hall,  an'  the  Noo  York  store,  is  a  picture  of 
old  Satan  himse'f,  teachin'  Professor  Propri 
ety  Pratt — that  bein'  the  name  this  yere  nee- 
cromancer  gives  himse'f — his  trade. 

"These  proclamations  is  tacked  up  a  full 
week  before  Professor  Pratt  is  doo,  an'  pro- 
dooces  a  profound  effect  on  Boggs,  him  bein' 
by  nacher  sooperstitious  to  the  brink  of  the 
egreegious.  The  evenin'  before  the  Professor 
is  to  onlimber  on  us,  he  shows  in  Red  Dog,  an' 
Boggs  is  that  roused  by  what's  been  promised 
in  the  line  of  mir'cles,  he  rides  across  to  be 
present. 

'  'It  ain't  that  I'm  convinced  none,'  Boggs 
reports,  when  quaffin'  his  Old  Jordan  in  the 
Red  Light,  an'  settin'  fo'th  what  he  sees,  'but 
I  must  confess  to  bein'  more  or  less  onhossed 


184        Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

by  what  this  yere  Pratt  Professor  does.  He 
don't  magnetize  none  of  them  Red  Dog  drunk 
ards  in  person,  for  which  he's  to  be  exonerated, 
since  no  self-respectin'  magnetizer  would  let 
himse'f  get  tangled  up  with  sech.  He  con 
fines  his  exploits  to  a  brace  of  dreamy  lookin' 
ground  owls  he  totes  'round  with  him,  an' 
which  he  calls  his  "bosses."  What  he  makes 
these  vagrants  do,  though,  assoomin'  it's  on  the 
squar',  is  a  caution  to  bull-snakes.  After  he's 
got  'em  onder  the  "inflooence,"  they  eats  raw 
potatoes  like  they're  roast  apples,  sticks  needles 
into  themselves  same  as  though  they're  pin 
cushions,  an'  at  his  slightest  behest  performs 
other  feats  both  blood-curdlin'  an'  myster'ous.' 
"We-all  listens  to  Boggs,  of  course,  as  he 
recounts  what  marvels  he's  gone  ag'inst  in  Red 
Dog,  but  we  don't  yield  him  as  much  attention 
as  we  otherwise  might,  bein'  preeockepied  as  a 
public  with  word  of  a  hold-up  that's  come  off 
over  near  the  Whetstone  Springs.  Some  ban 
dit — all  alone — sticks  up  the  Lordsburg  coach, 
an'  quits  winner  sixty  thousand  dollars.  Nach- 
erally  our  cur'osity  is  a  heap  stirred  up,  for 
with  sech  encouragement  thar's  no  tellin'  when 
he'll  make  a  play  at  Monte  an'  the  Wolf- 


Propriety  Pratt,  Hypnotist         185 

ville  stage,  an'  take  to  layin'  waste  the  fortunes 
of  all  us  gents.  What  is  done  to  Lordsburg 
we  can  stand,  but  a  blow  at  our  own  war- 
bags,  even  in  antic'pation,  is  calc'lated  to  cause 
us  to  perk  up.  We're  all  discussin'  the  doin's 
of  this  yere  route  agent  an'  wonderin'  if  it's 
Curly  Bill,  when  Boggs  gets  back  from  Red 
Dog,  with  the  result,  as  I  says,  that  he  onloads 
his  findin's,  that  a-way,  on  a  dead  kyard.  Not 
that  this  yere  public  inattention  preys  on 
Boggs.  He  keeps  on  drinkin'  an'  talkin',  same 
as  though,  all  y'ears  like  a  field  of  wheat,  we 
ain't  doin'  a  thing  but  listen. 

"  'Also,'  he  observes,  as  he  tells  Black  Jack 
to  rebusy  himse'f ,  meanwhile  p'intin'  up  to  the 
poster  which  shows  how  the  devil  is  holdin' 
Professor  Pratt  in  his  lap  an'  laborin'  for  that 
hypnotist's  instruction;  'I  shall  think  out  a  few 
tests  which  oughter  get  the  measure  of  that 
mountebank.  He  won't  find  this  outfit  so  easy 
as  them  Red  Dog  boneheads.' 

"Professor  Pratt  has  a  one-day  wait  in 
Wolfville,  not  bein'  able  that  evenin'  to  get  the 
Bird  Cage  Op'ry  House,  the  same  bein'  en 
gaged  by  a  company  of  histrions  called  the  Red 
Stocking  Blonds.  Havin'  nothin'  else  to  do, 


186        Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

the  Professor  wanders  yere  an'  thar,  now  in 
the  Red  Light,  now  at  the  Noo  York  store,  but 
showin'  up  at  the  O.  K.  Restauraw  at  chuck 
time  both  rav'nous  an'  reg'lar.  Missis  Rucker 
allows  she  never  does  feed  a  gent  who  puts 
himse'f  outside  of  so  much  grub  for  the  money, 
an'  hazards  the  belief  it's  because  of  a  loss  of 
nervous  force  through  them  hypnotizin's  he 
pulls  off.  Not  that  she's  findin'  fault,  for  the 
Professor,  havin'  staked  her  to  a  free  ticket, 
has  her  on  his  staff  in  the  shakin'  of  a  dice-box. 

"The  Professor  don't  come  bulgin'  among 
us,  garroolous  an'  friendly,  but  holds  himse'f 
aloof  a  heap,  clingin'  to  the  feelin'  mebby  that 
to  preeserve  a  distance  is  likely  to  swell  ree- 
sults  at  the  Bird  Cage  door.  Boggs,  however, 
ain't  to  be  stood  off  by  no  coldness,  carin'  no 
more  for  a  gent's  bein'  haughty  that  a-way 
than  a  cow  does  for  a  cobweb.  Which  you  bet 
it'll  take  somethin'  more'n  mere  airs  to  hold 
Boggs  in  check. 

"It's  in  the  O.  K.  Restauraw,  folio  win'  our 
evenin'  frijoles,  that  Boggs  breaks  the  ice  an' 
declar's  for  some  exper'ments. 

"  'Which  you  claims,'  says  he,  appealin'  to 
the  Professor,  'to  make  the  deef  hear  and  the 


Propriety  Pratt,  Hypnotist         187 

blind  see.  Onforchoonately  we're  out  of  deef 
folks  at  this  writin',  an'  thar's  nothin'  ap- 
proachin'  blindness  in  this  neck  of  woods  which 
don't  arise  from  licker.  But  aside  from  cures 
thus  rendered  impossible  for  want  of  el'gible 
invalids,  thar's  still  this  yere  hypnotic  bluff 
you  puts  up.  What  Wolfville  hankers  for  is 
tests,  tests  about  the  legit'macy  of  which  thar's 
no  openin'  for  dispoote.  Wharfore  I  yereby 
makes  offer  of  myse'f  to  become  your  onmur- 
murin'  dupe.  I'll  gamble  you  a  stack  of  bloos 
you  don't  make  me  drink  no  water,  thinkin' 
it's  nosepaint,  same  as  you  pretends  to  do  with 
them  wretched  confed'rates  of  yours.' 

"The  Professor  is  a  big  b'ar-built  sport,  an' 
looks  equal  to  holdin'  his  own  onder  common 
conditions.  But  Boggs  don't  come  onder  the 
latter  head.  So  the  Professor,  turnin'  diplo 
matic  an'  compliment 'ry,  explains  that  sech 
powerful  nachers  as  Boggs'  is  out  of  reach  of 
his  rope — Boggs  bein'  reepellent,  besides  hav- 
in'  too  strong  a  will. 

'  'As  to  you,  Mister  Boggs,  with  that  will 
of  yours,'  says  the  Professor,  'I  might  as  well 
talk  of  hypnotizin'  Cook's  Peak.' 

"One  after  another,  Boggs  makes  parade  of 


188        Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

everybody  in  camp.  It's  no  go ;  the  Professor 
waves  'em  aside  as  plumb  onfit.  Missis  Ruc- 
ker's  got  too  much  on  her  mind ;  in  Rucker  the 
tides  of  manhood  is  at  so  low  a  ebb  he  might 
die  onder  the  pressure;  Monte's  too  full  of 
nosepaint,  alcohol,  that  a-way,  bein'  a  non 
conductor. 

"When  the  Professor  dismisses  Monte,  the 
ground  he  puts  it  on  excites  that  inebriate 
to  whar  it  reequires  the  united  energies  of 
Cherokee  an'  Tutt  to  kick  him  off  the  Pro 
fessor.  It's  only  the  direct  commands  of  En- 
right  which  in  the  end  indooces  him  to  keep 
the  peace. 

'  'Let  me  at  him !'  he  howls ;  'let  me  get  at 
him!  Does  any  one  figger  I'll  allow  some  fly- 
by-night  charl'tan  to  go  reeflectin'  on  me? 
Stand  back,  Cherokee,  get  out  o'  the  way, 
Dave,  till  I  plaster  the  wall  with  his  reemains  !' 

'  'Ca'm  yourse'f,  Monte,'  says  Enright, 
who's  come  in  in  time  to  onderstand  the  trou 
ble.  'Which  if  this  hypnotizer  was  reely  mean- 
in'  to  outrage  your  feelin's,  it'd  be  different  a 
whole  lot,  an'  this  sod-pawin'  an'  horn-tossin' 
might  plead  some  jestification.  But  what  he 
says  is  in  the  way  of  scientific  exposition,  an' 


Propriety  Pratt,  Hypnotist         189 

nothin'  said  scientific's  to  be  took  insultin'. 
Ain't  that  your  view,  Doc?' 

"  'Shore/  replies  Peets.  The  Doc's  been 
havin'  no  part  in  the  discussion,  him  holdin* 
that  the  Professor,  with  his  rannikaboo  bluff 
about  healin',  is  a  empirik,  an'  beneath  his  pro 
fessional  contempt.  *  Shore.  Also,  I'm  free 
to  inform  Monte  that  if  he  thinks  he's  goin'  to 
lap  up  red  licker  to  the  degree  he  does,  an' 
obleege  folks  in  gen'ral  to  treat  sech  consump 
tion  as  a  secret,  he's  got  his  stack  down 
wrong.' 

"  'Enough  said,'  ejacyoolates  Monte,  but 
still  warm;  'whether  or  no,  Doc,  I'm  the 
sot  this  outfit's  so  fond  of  picturin',  I  at  least 
ain't  so  lost  to  reason  as  to  go  buckin'  ag'inst 
you  an'  Enright.  Jest  the  same,  though,  I'm 
yere  to  give  the  news  to  any  magnetizing 
horned-toad  who  sows  the  seeds  of  dispoote 
in  this  camp  that,  if  he  goes  about  malignin* 
me,  he'll  shore  find  I'm  preecisely  the  orange- 
hued  chimpanzee  to  wrop  my  prehensile 
tail  around  him  an'  yank  him  from  his 
limb.' 

c  'Aside  from  aidin'  the  deef  an'  the  blind/ 
says  the  Professor,  ignorin'  Monte  utter  an' 


190         Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

addressin'  himse'f  to  Boggs  an'  the  public 
gen'ral,  'my  ministrations  has  been  found  ef- 
f 'cacious  wharever  the  course  of  troo  love  has 
not  run  smooth.  I  binds  up  wounds  of  sent'- 
ment,  an'  cures  every  sickness  of  the  soul. 
tWhich,  if  thar's  any  heart  lyin'  'round  loose 
yereabouts  an'  failin'  to  beat  as  one,  or  a  sperit 
that's  been  disyoonited  from  its  mate  an'  can't 
remake  the  hook-up,  trust  me  to  get  thar  with 
bells  on  in  remedyin'  sech  evils.' 

"The  Professor  beams  as  he  gets  this  off, 
mighty  benignant.  Texas,  f eelin'  like  the  com 
mon  eye  is  on  him,  commences  to  grow  rest 
less. 

"'Be  you-all  alloodin'  to  me?'  he  asks  the 
Professor,  his  manner  approaching  the  petyoo- 
lant.  'Let  me  give  you  warnin',  an'  all  on  the 
principle  that  a  wink  is  as  good  as  a  nod  to  a 
blind  mule.  So  shore  as  you  go  to  makin'  any 
plays  to  reyoonite  me  an'  that  divorced  Laredo 
wife  of  mine  I'll  c'llect  enough  of  your  hyp- 
notizin'  hide  to  make  a  saddle-cover.' 

"  'Permit  me,'  says  the  Professor,  turnin'  to 
Texas  some  aghast,  'to  give  you  my  word  I 
nourishes  no  sech  deesigns.  Which  I'm  driven 
to  say,  however,  that  your  attitoode  is  as  hard 


Propriety  Pratt,  Hypnotist         191 

to  fathom  as  a  fifth  ace  in  a  poker  deck.    I  in 
no  wise  onderstands  your  drift.' 

"  'You  onderstands  at  least,'  returns  Texas, 
still  morbid  an'  f 'rocious,  'that  you  or  any  other 
fortune  teller  might  better  have  been  born  a 
Digger  Injun  to  live  on  lizards,  sage  bresh 
an'  grasshoppers  than  come  messin'  'round  in 
my  mar'tal  affairs  with  a  view  to  reebuildin' 
'em  up.  My  hopes  in  that  behalf  is  rooined; 
an'  whoever  ondertakes  their  rehabil'tation'll 
do  it  in  the  smoke.  What  I'm  out  after  now 
is  the  ca'm  onbroken  misery  of  a  single  life,  an' 
I'll  shore  have  it  or  have  war.' 

'  'My  heated  friend,  I  harbors  no  notion/ 
the  Professor  protests,  'of  tryin'  to  make  it 
otherwise.  Your  romancin'  'round  single,  that 
a-way,  ain't  no  skin  off  my  nose.  An'  while 
I  never  before  hears  of  your  former  bride,  I'm 
onable  to  dodge  the  feelin'  that  she  herse'f 
most  likely  might  reesent  to  the  utmost  any  at 
tempt  on  my  part  to  ag'in  bring  you  an'  her 
together.' 

"Texas  formyoolates  no  express  reply,  but 
growls.  The  Professor,  still  with  that  propiti- 
atin'  front,  appeals  to  the  rest  of  us. 

4  'Gents,'  he  says,  'this  yere's  the  most  ree- 


192         Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

sent  ful  outfit  I'm  ever  inveigled  into  try  in* 
to  give  a  show  to.  I  certainly  has  no  thought 
of  rubbin'  wrong-ways  the  pop'lar  bristles. 
All  I  aims  at  is  to  give  a  exhibition  of  anamile 
magnetism,  cure  what  halt  an'  blind — if  any 
— is  cripplin'  an'  moonin'  about,  c'llect  my 
dinero  an'  peacefully  hit  the  trail.  An'  yet  it 
looks  like  a  prejewdice  exists  ag'inst  me  yere.' 

'  'Put  a  leetle  pressure  on  the  curb,  thar/ 
interrupts  Peets.  "You're  up  ag'inst  no  prej 
ewdice.  On  that  bill,  wharwith  you've  done 
defaced  the  Wolfville  walls,  you  makes  sundry 
claims.  An'  now  you  r'ars  back  on  your 
ha'nches,  preetendin'  to  feel  plumb  illyoosed, 
because  some  one  seeks  to  put  the  acid  on  'em.' 

"'That's  whatever!'  adds  Boggs;  'the  Doc 
states  my  p'sition  equilaterally  exact.  I  sees 
your  Red  Dog  show.  I'll  be  present  a  whole 
lot  at  your  show  to-morry  night.  Also,  I  feels 
the  need  of  gyardin'  ag'inst  my  own  credoolity. 
What  I  sees  you  do  in  Red  Dog,  while  not 
convincing  throws  me  miles  into  the  oncertain 
air;  an'  I  don't  figger  on  lettin'  you  vamoos, 
leavin'  me  in  no  sech  a  onsettled  frame.  Whar- 
fore,  I  deemands  tests.' 

"  \Yere,'  breaks  in  Nell,  who's  been  listening 


Propriety  Pratt,  Hypnotist 


'what's  the  matter  of  this  occult  party  hypno- 
tizin'  me.' 

"  'The  odd  kyard  in  that  deck/  says  Chero 
kee,  his  manner  trenchin'  on  the  baleful  —  'the 
odd  kyard  in  that  deck  is  that  onless  this  yere 
occultist  is  cap'ble  of  mesmerizin'  a  bowie  to 
whar  it  looses  both  p'int  an'  edge,  for  him  to 
go  weavin'  his  wiles  an'  guiles  'round  you, 
Nellie,  would  mark  the  evenin'  of  his  c'reer.' 

"Nell  beams  an'  brightens  at  these  yere 
proofs  of  Cherokee's  int'rest,  while  the  pore 
Professor  looks  as  deeply  disheveled  mental 
as  he  does  when  Texas  goes  soarin'  aloft. 

"Little  Enright  Peets  waddles  up  to  tell  his 
paw  that  Tucson  Jennie  wants  him.  As  he 
comes  teeterin'  along  on  his  short  cub-b'ar 
laigs,  fat  an'  'round  as  forty  pigs,  the  Pro 
fessor  —  thinkin'  it'll  mebby  relieve  the  sityooa- 
tion  —  stoops  down  to  be  pleasant  to  little  En- 
right  Peets. 

'Yere's  my  little  friend!'  he  says,  at  the 
same  time  holdin'  out  his  hands. 

"Later  we-all  feels  some  ashamed  of  the  ex 
citement  we  displays.  But  the  trooth  is,  the 
Professor  off  erin'  to  caress  little  Enright  Peets 
that  a-way  sends  us  plumb  off  our  feet.  I 


194        Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

never  before  witnesses  any  sech  display  of 
force.  Every  gent  starts  f or'ard,  an'  some  has 
pulled  their  guns. 

"  'Paws  off!'  roars  Enright  to  the  pore  dazed 
Professor,  who  comes  mighty  clost  to  rottin' 
down  right  thar;  'in  view  of  them  announce 
ments' — yere  Enright  p'ints  to  the  bill,  whar 
Satan  an'  the  Professor  is  deepicted  as  teacher 
an'  poopil — 'do  you-all  reckon  we  lets  sech  a 
devil's  baby  as  you  go  manhandlin'  that  child  ?' 

"The  Professor  throws  up  his  hands  like 
he's  growing  desp'rate. 

"  'Folks,'  he  says,  'I  asks,  in  all  hoomility,  is 
thar  anythin'  I  can  say  or  do  in  this  yere  camp 
without  throwing  away  my  life?' 

"  'Shore,'  returns  Boggs;  '  all  you  got  to  do 
is  give  a  deemonstration.' 

"  'However  be  I  goin'  to  give  a  hypnotic 
deemonstration,'  returns  the  Professor,  appar 
ently  on  the  verge  of  nervous  breakdown, 
'when  every  possible  subject  is  either  too  pree- 
okyoopied,  or  too  obstinate,  or  too  weak,  or  too 
yoothful,  or  too  beautiful,  or  too  drunk?  If 
it's  healin'  you're  after,  bring  fo'th  the  sickest 
you've  got.  If  he's  blind  an'  his  eye  ain't 
gouged  plumb  out,  I'll  make  him  see;  if  he's 


Propriety  Pratt,  Hypnotist         195 

lame  an5  his  laig  ain't  cut  plumb  off,  I'll  make 
him  walk.  An'  now,  gents,  I'm  through.  If 
these  yere  proffers  don't  suit,  proceed  with 
my  bootchery.  I  care  less,  since  one  day  with 
you-all  exactin'  tarrapins  has  rendered  life  so 
distasteful  to  me  that  I  wouldn't  turn  hand 
or  head  to  live.' 

"Havin'  got  this  off  his  mind,  the  harassed 
Professor  sets  down  an'  buries  his  face  in  his 
hands. 

"  'Why  not  introdooce  him,'  breaks  in 
Rucker,  who's  nosin'  about,  'to  that  aflickted 
shorthorn  who  comes  groanin'  in  on  the  stage 
last  night  ?  He's  been  quiled  up  in  his  blankets 
with  the  rhoomatism  ever  since  he  hits  camp. 
Which  if  this  yere  imposter  can  make  him 
walk,  it'll  shore  be  kings-up  with  Missis 
Rucker,  'cause  she  wants  to  make  the  bed.' 

'Whar's  this  sufferer  at?'  demands  Boggs, 
takin'  the  Professor  by  the  sleeve  an'  with  the 
same  motion  pullin'  his  six-shooter.  'This  yere 
discussion's  done  reached  the  mark  whar  it's 
goin'  to  be  a  case  of  kill  or  cure  for  some  sport.' 

"Rucker  leads  the  way  up  sta'rs,  Boggs  an' 
the  Professor  next,  the  rest  trailin'.  All  hands 
crowds  into  the  little  dark  bedroom.  Thar 


196        Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

on  the  bed,  clewed  up  into  a  knot,  lies  the 
rhoomatic  party.  As  we-all  files  in,  he  draws 
himse'f  onder  the  blankets  ontil  nothin'  but 
his  nose  sticks  out. 

"  'Professor,'  says  Boggs,  an'  his  six-shooter 
goes  'kluck!  kluck!'  mighty  menacin',  'onfurl 
your  game!  I  shore  trusts  that  you  ain't 
started  nothin'  you  can't  stop.' 

"The  pore  Professor  don't  nurse  no  doubts. 
He  thinks  he's  in  the  bubblin'  midst  of  blood 
an'  sudden  death;  wharf  ore,  you  bet,  he  throws 
plenty  of  sperit  into  his  racket.  Makin'  some 
hostile  moves  with  his  hands — Boggs  elevatin' 
his  gun,  not  bein'  quite  content  about  them 
motions — the  Professor  yells: 

"'Get  up!' 

"Talk  of  mir'cals!  Which  you  should  have 
seen  that  rhoomatic !  With  one  turrific  squawk 
he  lands  on  his  knees  at  the  feet  of  Boggs, 
beggin'  for  mercy. 

"'Don't  kill  me,'  he  cries;  Til  show  you  whar 
I  plants  the  money.' 

"Whoever  is  that  rhoomatic?  Which  he's 
the  stoodent  who  stands  up  the  stage  over  by 
Whetstone  Springs.  His  rhoomatism's  merely 
that  malefactor's  way  of  goin'  onder  cover. 


Propriety  Pratt,  Hypnotist         197 

"The  Professor  later  offers  to  divide  with 
Boggs  on  the  two  thousand-dollar  reward  the 
Wells-Fargo  folks  pays,  but  Boggs  shakes  his 
head. 

'You  take  the  entire  wad,  Professor/  says 
he,  wavin'  aside  that  gen'rous  necromancer. 
'It's  the  trophy  of  your  own  hypnotic  bow 
an'  spear.  What  share  is  borne  by  my  .45 
is  incidental.  Which  I'll  say,  too,  that  if  I  was 
playin'  your  hand  I'd  spread  that  cure  on  my 
posters  as  the  star  mir'cle  of  my  c'reer.' ' 


VIII 

THAT  TURNER  PERSON 

"Talk  of  your  hooman  storm-centers  an* 
nacheral  born  hubs  of  grief,"  observed  the  old 
cattleman,  reminiscently;  "I'm  yere  to  back 
that  Turner  person  ag'inst  all  competitors. 
Not  but  what  once  we're  onto  his  angles,  he 
sort  o'  oozes  into  our  regyards.  His  baptismal 
name  is  'Lafe,'  but  he  never  does  deerive  no 
ben'fit  tharfrom  among  us,  him  behavin'  that 
eegregious  from  the  jump,  he's  alters  referred 
to  as  'that  Turner  person.' 

"As  evincin'  how  swift  flows  the  turbid  cur 
rents  of  his  destinies,  he  succeeds  in  focusin' 
the  gen'ral  gaze  upon  him  before  he's  been  in 
camp  a  day.  Likewise,  it's  jest  as  well  Missis 
Rucker  herse'f  ain't  present  none  in  person  at 
the  time,  or  mighty  likely  he'd  have  focused 
all  the  crockery  on  the  table  upon  him,  which 
you  can  bet  your  last  peso  wouldn't  have 
proved  no  desid'ratum.  For  while  Missis 
Rucker  ain't  what  I  calls  onusual  peevish,  for 

198 


That  Turner  Person  199 

a  lady  to  set  thar  quiet  an'  be  p'inted  to  by 
some  onlicensed  boarder  as  a  Borgia,  that  a- 
way,  would  be  more'n  female  flesh  an'  blood 
can  b'ar. 

"It's  like  this.  The  Turner  person  comes 
pushin'  his  way  into  the  O.  K.  Restauraw 
along  with  the  balance  of  the  common  herd, 
an'  pulls  a  cha'r  up  ag'inst  the  viands  with 
all  the  confidence  of  a  oldest  inhab'tant. 
After  grinnin'  up  an'  down  the  table  as  af 
fable  as  a  wet  dog,  he  ropes  onto  a  can  of  air- 
tights,  the  same  bein'  peaches.  He  he'ps  him- 
se'f  plenty  copious  an'  starts  to  mowin'  'em 
away. 

"None  of  us  is  noticin'  partic'lar,  bein5  en 
gaged  on  our  own  hook  reachin'  for  things, 
when  of  a  sudden  he  cuts  loose  a  screech  which 
would  have  knocked  a  bobcat  speechless. 

"'I'm  p'isened!'  he  yells;  'I'm  as  good  as 
dead  right  now!' 

"Followin'  this  yere  fulm'nation,  he  takes 
to  dancin'  stiff -laiged,  meanwhile  clutchin'  hold 
of  the  buckle  on  his  belt. 

"Thar  should  be  no  dissentin'  voice  when  I 
states  that,  at  a  crisis  when  some  locoed  mave 
rick  stampedes  a  entire  dinin'  room  by  allowin' 


200         Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

he's  been  p'isened,  prompt  action  should  be 
took.  Wharfore  it  excites  no  surprise  when 
Jack  Moore,  to  whom  as  kettle  tender  for  the 
Stranglers  all  cases  of  voylance  is  ex  officio 
put  up,  capchers  the  ghost-dancin'  Turner  per 
son  by  the  collar. 

"  'Whatever's  the  meanin'  of  this  mid- 
prandial  excitement?'  demands  Jack.  *  Which 
if  these  is  your  manners  in  a  dinin'  room,  I'd 
shore  admire  to  see  you  once  in  church.' 

"  'I'm  p'isened!'  howls  the  Turner  person, 
p'intin'  at  the  airtights.  'It's  ptomaines !  I'm 
a  gone  fawnskin!  Ptomaines  is  a  center 
shot!' 

"None  of  us  holds  Rucker  overhigh,  an'  yet 
we  jestifies  that  husband's  action.  Rucker 's 
headin'  in  from  the  kitchen,  bearin'  aloft  a 
platter  of  ham  an'  cabbage.  He  arrives  in 
time  to  gather  in  the  Turner  person's  bluff 
about  'ptomaines,'  an'  onderstands  he's  claim- 
in'  to  be  p'isened.  Shore,  Rucker  don't  know 
what  ptomaines  is,  but  what  then?  No  more 
does  the  rest  of  us,  onless  it's  Peets,  an'  he's 
over  to  Tucson.  As  I  freequently  remarks, 
the  Doc  is  the  best  eddicated  sharp  in  Arizona, 
an'  even  'ptomaines'  ain't  got  nothin'  on  him. 


That  Turner  Person  201 

"Rucker  plants  the  platter  of  ham  an'  cab 
bage  on  the  table,  an'  appeals  'round  to  us. 

"  'Gents,'  he  says,  'am  I  to  stand  mootely 
by  an'  see  this  tavern,  the  best  j'int  ondoubted 
in  Arizona,  insulted?'  An'  with  that  he's  down 
on  the  Turner  person  like  a  fallin'  tree,  whar 
that  crazy-hoss  individyooal  stands  jumpin' 
an'  dancin'  in  the  hands  of  Moore. 

"  'What's  these  yere  slanders,'  shouts 
Rucker,  'you-all  is  levelin'  at  my  wife's  hotel? 
Yere  we  be,  f eedin'  you  on  the  fat  of  the  land ; 
an'  the  form  your  gratitoode  takes  is  to  go 
givin'  it  out  broadcast  you're  p'isened!  You 
pull  your  freight,'  he  concloodes,  as  he 
wrastles  the  dancin'  Turner  person  to  the 
door,  'an'  if  you-all  ever  shows  your  villifyin' 
nose  inside  this  hostelry  ag'in  I'll  fill  you  full 
of  buckshot.' 

"To  be  shore,  that  crack  about  buckshot 
ain't  nothin'  more'n  vain  hyperbole,  Rucker 
not  possessin'  the  spunk  of  bull-snakes.  The 
Turner  person,  however,  lets  him  get  away 
with  it,  an'  submits  tamely  to  be  buffaloed, 
which  of  itse'f  shows  he  ain't  got  the  heart  of 
a  horned  toad.  The  eepisode  does  Rucker  a 
heap  of  good,  though,  an'  he  puffs  up  im- 


202         Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

moderate.  Given  any  party  he  can  buffalo, 
an'  the  way  that  weak-minded  married  man 
expands  his  chest,  an'  takes  to  struttin',  is  a 
caution  to  cock  partridges.  An'  all  the  time, 
a  jackrabbit,  of  ordinary  resolootion  an'  force 
of  character,  would  make  Rucker  take  to  a 
tree  or  go  into  a  hole. 

"Is  the  Turner  person  p'isened? 

"No  more'n  I  be.  Which  it's  simple  that 
alarmist's  heated  imagination,  aggravated  by 
what  deloosions  is  born  of  the  nosepaint  he 
gets  in  Red  Dog  before  ever  he  makes  his 
Wolfville  deboo  at  all.  Two  hookers  of  Old 
Jordan  from  Black  Jack  renders  him  so 
plumb  well  he's  reedic'lous. 

"Most  likely  you-all'd  go  thinkin'  now  that, 
havin'  let  sech  a  hooman  failure  as  Rucker  put 
it  all  over  him,  this  Turner  person'd  lie  dor 
mant  a  spell,  an'  give  his  se'frespect  a  chance 
to  ketch  its  breath.  Not  him.  It's  no  longer 
away  than  second  drink  time  the  same  evenin' 
when  he  locks  gratooitous  horns  with  Black 
Jack.  To  this  last  embroglio  thar  is  —  an' 
could  be  —  no  deef ense,  Jack  bein'  so  amiable 
that  havin'  trouble  with  him  is  like  goin'  to 
the  floor  with  your  own  image  in  the  glass. 


That  Turner  Person  203 

Which  he's  shorely  a  long  sufferin'  bar-keep, 
Jack  is.  Mebby  it's  his  genius  for  forbearance, 
that  a-way,  which  loores  this  Turner  person 
into  attemptin'  them  outrages  on  his  sens'- 
bilities. 

"The  Turner  person  stands  at  the  bar, 
sloppin'  out  the  legit'mate  forty  drops.  With 
nothin*  said  or  done  to  stir  him  up,  he  cocks 
his  eye  at  Jack — for  all  the  world  like  a  crow 
peerin  into  a  bottle — an'  says, 

"  'Which  your  feachers  is  displeasin'  to  me, 
an'  I  don't  like  your  looks.' 

"Jack  keeps  on  swabbin'  off  the  bar  for  a 
spell,  an'  all  as  mild  as  the  month  of  May. 

"  'Is  that  remark  to  be  took  sarkastic?'  he 
asks  at  last,  'or  shall  we  call  it  nothin'  more'n 
a  brainless  effort  to  be  funny?' 

'  'None  whatever !'  retorts  the  Turner  per 
son;  'that  observation's  made  in  a  serious 
mood.  Your  countenance  is  ondoubted  the 
facial  failure  of  the  age,  an'  I  requests  that 
you  turn  it  the  other  way  while  I  drinks.' 

"Not  bein'  otherwise  engaged  at  the  mo 
ment,  an'  havin'  time  at  his  command,  Jack 
repairs  from  behind  the  bar,  an'  seizes  the 
Turner  person  by  the  y'ear. 


204         Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

'  'An'  this  is  the  boasted  hospital'ty  of  the 
West!'  howls  the  Turner  person,  strugglin'  to 
free  himself  from  Jack,  who's  slowly  but 
voloominously  bootin'  him  towards  the  street. 

"It's  Nell  who  tries  to  save  him. 

'Yere,  you  Jack!'  she  sings  out,  'don't 
you-all  go  hurtin'  that  pore  tenderfoot  none.' 

"Nell's  a  shade  too  late,  however;  Jack's  al 
ready  booted  him  out. 

"Shore,  Jack  apologizes. 

'  'Beg  parding,  Nellie,'  he  says ;  'your  least 
command  beats  four  of  a  kind  with  me;  but 
as  to  that  ejected  shorthorn,  I  has  him  all 
thrown  out  before  ever  you  gets  your  stack 
down.' 

"The  Turner  person  picks  himse'f  out  of 
the  dust,  an',  while  he  feels  his  frame  for  dis 
locations  with  one  hand,  feebly  menaces  at 
Black  Jack  with  t'other. 

"  'Some  day,  you  rum-sellin'  miscreent,'  he 
says,  'you'll  go  too  far  with  me.' 

"As  showin'  how  little  these  vicisitoodes 
preys  on  this  Turner  person,  it  ain't  ten  min 
utes  till  he's  hit  the  middle  of  Wolfville's 
principal  causeway,  roarin'  at  the  top  of  his 
lungs, 


That  Turner  Person  205 

"  'Cl'ar  the  path!  I'm  the  grey  wolf  of  the 
mountings,  an'  gen'ral  desolation  follows  whar 
Heads!' 

"Yere  he  gives  a  prolonged  howl. 

"The  hardest  citizen  that  ever  belted  on  a 
gun  couldn't  kick  up  no  sech  row  as  that  in 
Wolfville,  an'  last  as  long  as  a  drink  of 
whiskey.  In  half  the  swish  of  a  coyote's 
tail,  Jack  Moore's  got  the  Turner  person 
corralled. 

'This  camp  has  put  up  with  a  heap  from 
you,'  says  Moore,  'an'  now  we  tries  what  rest 
an'  reeflection  will  do.' 

"  'I'm  a  wolf—!' 

"  'We  savvys  all  about  you  bein'  a  wolf. 
lAlso,  I'm  goin'  to  tie  you  to  the  windmill,  as 
likely  to  exert  a  tamin'  inflooence.' 

"Moore  conveys  the  Turner  person  to  the 
windmill,  an'  ropes  his  two  hands  to  one  of  its 
laigs. 

'Thar,  Wolf,'  he  says,  makin'  shore  the 
Turner  person  is  fastened  secoore,  'I  shall 
leave  you  ontil,  with  every  element  of  wildness 
abated,  you-all  begins  to  feel  more  like  a  do 
mestic  anamile.' 

"From  whar  we-all  are  standin'  in  front  of 


206         Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

the  post  office,  we  can  see  the  Turner  person 
roped  to  the  windmill  laig. 

"  'What  do  you  reckon's  wrong  with  that 
party?'  asks  Enright,  sort  o'  gen'ral  like;  'I 
don't  take  it  he's  actchooally  locoed  none.' 

"Thar's  half  a  dozen  opinions  on  the  p'int 
involved.  Tutt  su'gests  that  the  Turner  per 
son's  wits,  not  bein'  cinched  on  any  too  tight 
by  nacher  in  the  beginnin',  mebby  slips  their 
girths  same  as  happens  with  a  saddle.  Chero 
kee  inclines  to  a  notion  that  whatever  mental 
deeflections  he  betrays  is  born  primar'ly  of 
him  stoppin'  that  week  in  Red  Dog.  Cherokee 
insists  that  sech  a  space  in  Red  Dog  shore 
ought  to  be  s'fficient  to  give  any  sport,  how 
ever  firmly  founded,  a  decisive  slant. 

"As  ag'inst  both  the  others,  Boggs  holds 
to  the  view  that  the  onusual  fitfulness  ob- 
serv'ble  in  the  Turner  person  arises  from  a 
change  of  licker,  an'  urges  that  the  sudden 
shift  from  the  beverages  of  Red  Dog,  which 
last  is  indoobitably  no  more  an'  no  less  than 
liquid  loonacy,  to  the  Red  Lights  Old  Jordan, 
is  bound  to  confer  a  twist  upon  the  straightest 
intellectyooals. 

"Which  I  knows  a  party,'   says  Boggs, 


That  Turner  Person  207 

Vho  once  immerses  a  ten-penny  nail  in  a  quart 
of  Red  Dog  licker,  an'  at  the  end  of  the  week 
he  takes  it  out  a  corkscrew.' 

"  'Go  an'  get  him,  Jack,'  says  Enright, 
p'intin'  to  the  Turner  person;  'him  bein'  tied 
thar  that  a-way  is  an  inhooman  spectacle,  an' 
if  little  Enright  Peets  should  come  teeterin' 
along  an'  see  him,  it'd  have  a  tendency  to 
harden  the  innocent  child.  Fetch  him  yere, 
an'  let  me  question  him.' 

c  'Front  up,'  says  Moore  to  the  Turner  per 
son,  when  he's  been  conveyed  before  Enright; 
'front  up  now,  frank  an'  cheerful,  an'  answer 
questions.  Also,  omit  all  ref'rences  to  bein' 
a  wolf.  Which  you've  worn  that  topic  thread- 
bar';  an'  besides  it  ain't  calc'lated  to  do  you 
credit.' 

" ' Whatever 's  the  matter  with  you?'  asks 
Enright,  speakin'  to  the  Turner  person 
friendly  like.  'Which  I  begins  to  think  thar's 
somethin'  wrong  with  your  system.  The  way 
you  go  knockin'  about  offendin'  folks,  it  won't 
be  no  time  before  every  social  circle  in  the 
Southwest'll  be  closed  ag'inst  you.  What 
ever 's  wrong?' 

'  'Them's  the  first  kind  words,'  ejacyoolates 


208         Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

the  Turner  person,  beginnin'  to  weep,  'which 
has  been  spoke  to  me  in  months.  Which  if 
you-all  will  ask  me  into  yon  s'loon,  an'  protect 
me  from  that  murderer  of  a  barkeep  while  I 
buys  the  drinks,  I'll  show  you  that  I've  been 
illyoosed  to  a  degree  whar  I'm  no  longer  ree- 
spons'ble  for  my  deeds.  It's  a  love  affair,'  he 
adds,  gulpin'  down  a  sob,  'an'  I've  been 
crooelly  misonderstood.' 

"  'A  love  affair,'  repeats  Enright  plenty 
soft,  for  the  mention  of  love  never  fails  to  hit 
our  old  warchief  whar  thar't  a  palin'  off  his 
fence.  'I  ain't  been  what  you-all'd  call  in 
love  none  since  the  Purple  Blossom  of  Ging 
ham  Mountain  marries  Polly  Hawkes  over  on 
the  Painted  Post.  Polly  was  a  beauty,  with  a 
arm  like  a  canthook,  an'  at  sech  dulcet  exer 
cises  as  huggin'  she's  got  b'ars  left  standin' 
sideways.  However,  that's  back  in  Tennessee, 
an'  many  years  ago.' 

"Enright,  breshin'  the  drops  from  his  eyes, 
herds  the  Turner  person  into  the  Red  Light 
an'  signals  to  Black  Jack. 

"  'Onfold,'  he  says;  'tell  me  as  to  that  love 
affair  wharin  you  gets  cold-decked.' 

"Nell  abandons  her  p'sition  on  the  lookout 


That  Turner  Person  209 

stool,  an'  shows  up  interested  an'  intent  at  En- 
right's  shoulder. 

"  ' Ain't  I  in  this?'  she  asks. 

"  'Be  thar  any  feachures,'  says  Enright  to 
the  Turner  person,  'calc'lated  to  offend  the 
y'ears  of  innocence?' 

'  'None  whatever,'  says  the  Turner  person. 
'Which  I'm  oncapable  of  shockin'  the  most 
fastid'yous.' 

"  'Is  thar  time,'  asks  Nell  of  Enright,  'for 
me  to  round  up  Missis  Rucker  an'  Tucson 
Jennie?  Listenin'  to  love  tales,  that  a-way,  is 
duck  soup  to  both  of  'em.' 

'  You-all  can  tell  'em  later,  Nellie/  returns 
Enright.  Then,  to  the  Turner  person,  'Roll 
your  game,  amigo,  an'  if  you  needs  refresh 
ment,  yere  it  is.' 

"  'It  ain't  no  mighty  reecital,'  says  the  Tur 
ner  person  loogubriously,  'an'  yet  it  ought  to 
go  some  distance,  among  fa'r-minded  gents,  in 
explainin'  them  vain  elements  of  the  weird  an' 
ranikaboo  which  more  or  less  enters  into  my 
recent  conduct.  I'm  from  Missouri;  an'  for 
a  livelihood,  an'  to  give  the  wolf  a  stand-off,  I 
follows  the  profession  of  a  fooneral  director. 
My  one  weakness  is  my  love  for  Peggy  Parks, 


210         Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

who  lives  with  her  folks  out  in  the  Sni-a-bar 
hills. 

"  'The  nuptual  day  is  set,  an'  I  goes  hiber- 
natin'  off  to  Kansas  City  to  fetch  the 
license.' 

'  'How  old  be  you?'  breaks  in  Enright. 

6  'Me?  I'm  twenty-six  the  last  Joone  rise 
of  the  old  Missouri.  As  I  was  sayin',  I 
hitches  my  hoss  in  Market  Squar',  an'  takes  to 
reeconoiterin'  along  Battle  Row,  wonderin' 
wharever  them  licenses  is  for  sale,  anyway. 
Final,  I  discovers  a  se'f  satisfied  lookin'  party, 
who's  pattin'  a  dog.  I  goes  to  talkin'  about 
the  dog,  an'  allowin'  I'm  some  on  dogs  myse'f, 
all  by  way  of  commencin'  a  conversation;  an' 
winds  up  by  askin'  whar  I  go  for  to  get  a 
license.  "Over  thar,"  says  the  dog  party  p'int- 
in'  across  to  a  edifice  he  asshores  me  is  a  City 
Hall.  "First  floor,  first  door,  an'  the  damage 
is  a  dollar." 

"  'Thus  steered,  I  goes  streakin'  it  across, 
an'  follows  directions.  I  boards  my  dollar, 
an'  demands  action.  The  outcast  who's  dealin* 
the  license  game  writes  in  my  name,  an'  shoves 
the  paper  across.  In  a  blur  of  bliss  I  files  it 
away  in  my  jeans,  mounts  my  hoss,  an'  goes 


That  Turner  Person  211 

gambodin'  back  to  Peggy,  waitin'  at  ancestral 
Sni-a-bar.' 

"  'Is  your  Peggy  sweetheart  pretty?'  asks 
Nell. 

"  'She's  a  lamp  of  loveliness!    Sweet?    Bee- 
trees  is  gall  an'  wormwood  to  her. 

*  'As  to  the  weddin',  it's  settled  Peggy  an' 
me  is  to  come  flutterin'  from  our  respective 
perches  the  next  day.  Doubtless  we'd  have 
done  so,  only  them  orange  blossom  rites 
strikes  the  onexpected  an'  goes  glancin'  off. 

'  'It's  the  Campbellite  preacher,  who's  been 
brought  in  to  marry  us,  that  starts  it.  The 
play's  to  be  made  at  Peggy's  paw's  house, 
after  which,  for  a  weddin'  trip,  she  an'  me's  to 
go  wanderin'  out  torwards  the  Shawnee  Mis 
sion,  whar  I've  got  some  kin.  The  parson, 
when  he  has  the  entire  outfit  close-herded 
into  the  parlor,  asks — bein'  a  car'ful  old  prac 
titioner — to  see  the  license.  I  turns  it  over, 
an'  he  takes  it  to  the  window  to  read.  He 
gives  that  docyooment  one  look,  an'  then  glow 
ers  at  me  personal  mighty  baleful.  "Miser 
able  wretch,"  says  he,  "do  you-all  want  to  get 
yourse'f  tarred  an'  feathered?" 

"  'In  my  confoosion  I  thinks  this  outbreak 


212         Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

is  part  of  the  cer'mony,  an'  starts  to  say  "I 
do!"  Before  I  can  edge  in  a  word,  however, 
he  calls  over  Peggy's  old  man.  "Read  that!" 
he  cries,  holdin'  the  license  onder  old  Pap 
Parks'  nose.  Old  Parks  reads,  an'  the 
next  news  I  gets  he's  maulin'  me  with  his 
hickory  walkin'  stick  like  he's  beatin'  a 
kyarpet. 

"  'Without  waitin'  to  kiss  the  bride  or  re 
cover  my  license,  I  simply  t'ars  out  the  front  of 
the  house  an'  breaks  for  the  woods.  The  next 
day,  old  Parks  takes  to  huntin'  me  with 
hounds.  Nacherally,  at  this  proof  of  man's 
inhoomanity  to  man,  I  sneaks  across  into  Kan 
sas,  an'  makes  for  the  settin'  sun.' 

'  'An'  can't  you  give  no  guess,'  says  En- 
right,  'at  why  old  Parks  digs  up  the  waraxe 
so  plumb  sudden?' 

"  'No  more'n  rattlesnakes  onborn,  onless 
his  inordinate  glee  at  gettin'  me  for  a  son-in- 
law  has  done  drove  him  off  his  head.' 

"  'Which  it  couldn't  be  that,'  says  Enright, 
takin'  a  hard,  thoughtful  look  at  the  Turner 
person.  Then,  followin'  a  pause,  he  adds, 
'thar's  some  myst'ry  yere!' 

"  'Ain't  you-all  made  no  try,'  asks  Nell, 


That  Turner  Person  213 

'sech  as  writin'  letters,  or  some  game  sim'lar, 
to  cl'ar  things  up?' 

"  'You-all  don't  know  Pap  Parks,  Miss,  in 
all  his  curves.  Why,  it's  lucky  he  ain't  wearin* 
his  old  bowie  at  that  weddin',  or  he'd  a-split  me 
into  half  apples.  If  I  goes  to  writin'  missives 
that  a- way,  he'll  locate  me;  an'  you  can  take 
my  word  that  invet'rate  old  homicide  'd  travel 
to  the  y'earth's  eends  to  c'llect  my  skelp.  That 
ain't  goin'  to  do  me;  for,  much  as  I  love 
Peggy,  I'd  a  heap  sooner  be  single  than  dead/ 
'That  party  ain't  locoed,'  says  Texas, 
noddin'  towards  the  Turner  person,  whar  he 
sets  sobbin'  in  a  cha'r  when  Enright  gets 
through  examinin'  him.  'He's  simply  a  howl- 
in'  eediot.  Yere  he  escapes  wedlock  by  a  mir'- 
cle;  an' — chains  an'  slavery! — now  he  can't 
think  of  no  better  way  to  employ  his  liberty 
than  in  cryin'  his  heart  out  because  he's  free. 
If  I'm  bitter,  gents,  it's  because  I  speaks  from 
hard  experience.  Considerin'  how  she  later 
corrals  that  Laredo  divorce  an'  sells  up  my 
cattle  at  public  vandoo  for  costs  an'  al'mony, 
if  when  I  troops  to  the  altar  with  that  lady 
whom  I  makes  Missis  Thompson,  my  gyardian 
angel  had  gone  at  me  with  a  axe,  that  faith- 


214         Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

ful  sperit  would  have  been  doin'  no  more  than 
its  simple  dooty  in  the  premises.' 

"Enright  takes  it  onto  himself  to  squar'  the 
Turner  person  at  the  Red  Light  an'  the  O.  K. 
Restauraw;  an',  since  his  ensooin'  conduct  is 
much  within  decent  bounds,  except  that 
Rucker  steps  some  high  an'  mighty  when  he 
heaves  in  sight  an'  Black  Jack  gives  him  hard 
an'  narrow  looks,  nothin'  su'gestive  of  trouble 
occurs.  In  less'n  a  week  he  shakes  down  into 
his  proper  place,  an'  all  as  placid  as  a  duck- 
pond.  He's  even  a  sort  o'  fav'rite  with  Nell, 
Missis  Rucker  an'  Tucson  Jennie,  they 
claimin'  that  he's  suff erin'  from  soul  blight  be 
cause  of  a  lost  love.  Certainly,  thar's  nothin' 
in  this  yere  fem'nine  bluff,  but  of  course  none 
of  us  don't  say  so  at  the  time. 

"Boggs  holds  that  the  Turner  person's  only 
a  pecooliarly  gifted  liar,  an'  ref ooses  to  believe 
in  him.  'Because  it's  prepost'rous,'  says 
Boggs,  'that  folks  would  go  in  to  frame  up  a 
weddin',  an'  then,  led  by  the  preacher,  take  to 
mobbin'  the  bridegroom  on  the  very  threshold 
of  them  nuptials.' 

"  'It  ain't  by  no  means  shore,  Dan,'  says 
Texas,  to  whom  Boggs  imparts  his  convic- 


That  Turner  Person  215 

tions,  'but  what  you've  drove  the  nail.  Which 
if  that  Parks  household  reely  has  it  in  for  this 
Turner  person,  they'd  have  let  him  go  the 
route.  Could  even  the  revenge  of  a  fiend  ask 
more  than  simply  seein'  him  a  married  man?' 

"In  about  a  fortnight,  that  Turner  person's 
got  fully  cooled  out,  an'  the  worst  effects  of 
what  Red  Dog  licker  he  imbibes  has  disap 
peared.  As  he  feels  himse'f  approachin'  nor 
mal,  as  Peets  puts  it,  he  mentions  to  Enright 
casyooal  like  that,  if  the  town  sees  nothin' 
ag'in  it,  he  reckons  he'll  open  an  ondertakin' 
shop. 

"  'Not,'  he  says,  'that  I'm  the  man  to  go 
hintin'  that  what  former  foonerals  has  been 
pulled  off  in  these  yere  parts  ain't  been  all 
they  should;  but  still,  to  get  a  meetropolitan 
effect,  you  oughter  have  a  hearse  an'  ploomes. 
Let  it  be  mine  to  provide  them  marks  of  a 
advanced  civilization.  It'll  make  villages  like 
Red  Dog  an'  Colton  sing  low,  an'  be  a  distinct 
advantage  to  a  camp  which  is  strugglin'  for 
consid'ration.  Yes,  sir,'  goes  on  the  Turner 
person,  warmin'  with  the  theme,  'what's  the 
public  use  of  obsequies  if  you-all  don't  exhaust 
'em  of  every  ounce  of  good?  An'  how  can  any 


216         Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

outfit  expect  to  do  this,  an'  said  outfit  shy 
that  greatest  evidence  of  modern  reefinement, 
a  hearse?  Given  a  rosewood  coffin,  an'  a  black 
hearse  with  ploomes — me  on  the  box — an'  the 
procession  linin'  solemnly  out  for  Boot  Hill, 
if  we-all  ain't  the  instant  envy  of  the  territory, 
you  can  peg  me  out  by  the  nearest  ant  hill  on- 
til  I  pleads  guilty  to  bein'  wrong.' 

"  'Thar's  no  need  for  all  this  yere  eloquence,' 
replies  Enright,  blandly.  'What  you  proposes 
has  been  a  dream  of  mine  for  years.  You 
open  your  game  as  fooneral  director,  an'  if  we 
can't  find  material  for  you  local,  we'll  go  rum- 
magin'  'round  as  far  as  Lordsburg  an'  Silver 
City  to  supply  the  deficiency.' 

"Feelin'  Enright  is  behind  him,  the  Turner 
person  goes  to  work  with  sech  exyooberant  en- 
thoosiasm,  that  it  ain't  a  month  before  he 
brings  over  his  hearse  from  Tucson,  said  ve 
hicle  havin'  been  sent  on  from  the  East.  She's 
shore  no  slouch  for  a  catafalque  neither,  an' 
we  p'rades  up  an'  down  the  street  with  it,  get- 
tin'  the  effect. 

"Boggs  voices  the  common  feelin'. 

"  'Thar's  a  conveyance,'  says  he,  'that  comes 
mighty  close  to  robbin'  death  of  half  its  sting. 


That  Turner  Person  217 

Any  sport  is  bound  to  cash  in  more  content, 
when  he  sawys  that  his  last  appearance  is 
bound  to  be  a  vict'ry  an'  he'll  be  freighted  to 
the  sepulcher  in  a  swell  wagon  like  that.' 

"  'It  is  shore  calc'lated  to  confer  class  on  the 
deeparted,'  assents  Tutt. 

"These  praises  certainly  exalts  the  sperits  of 
the  Turner  person  a  whole  lot.  He  buys  the 
old  Lady  Gay  dance  hall,  which,  since  the 
goin'  out  of  the  Votes  for  Women  S'loon,  has 
again  become  the  ondispooted  property  of 
Armstrong,  makes  a  double-door  to  back  in 
the  hearse,  an'  reopens  that  deefunct  temple 
of  drink  an'  merriment  as  a  ondertakin'  estab 
lishment.  Over  the  front  he  hangs  up  his  sign. 


COFFIN   EMPORIUM. 

L.  TURNER,  FUNERAL  DIRECTOR. 

CORPSES   SOLICITED. 


"That  sign  so  much  uplifts  the  sperit  of  the 
town  it  mor'n  doubles  the  day's  receipts  at  the 
Red  Light.  Also,  two  or  three  shady  char 
acters  vamooses  for  fear  of  what  a  nacheral 
public  eagerness  to  see  that  hearse  in  action 
may  do. 

"It's  the  day  next  on  the  hocks  of  the  in- 


218        Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

stallation  of  the  Turner  person  in  business,  an' 
the  f ooneral  director  is  lookin'  out  of  the  front 
window  of  his  coffin  emporium  wishin'  some 
gent'd  start  somethin'  with  his  gun  an'  mebby 
bump  him  off  a  load  for  his  new  hearse,  when 
Enright  eemerges  from  the  post  office  with  a 
iron  look  on  his  face.  Peets  is  with  him,  an' 
the  pa'r  is  holdin'  a  powwow. 

"The  rest  of  us  might  have  taken  more  no 
tice,  only  our  sombreros  is  fittin'  some  tight 
on  account  of  the  interest  we  evinces  the  day 
prior  in  he'pin'  la'nch  the  Turner  person  that 
a-way.  As  it  is,  we  bats  a  lackluster  eye,  an' 
wonders  in  a  feeble  way  what's  done  corr'- 
gated  Enright's  brow. 

"It  don't  go  no  further  than  wonder,  how 
ever,  ontil  after  a  few  moments  talk  with 
Nell,  Enright  sends  across  for  the  Turner  per 
son.  As  showin'  how  keenly  sens'tive  are  the 
female  faculties  that  a-way,  Missis  Rucker  an' 
Tucson  Jennie  is  canvassin'  some  infantile 
mal'dy  of  little  Enright  Peets  in  the  front 
room  of  the  O.  K.  House,  an'  same  as  if  they 
smells  the  onyoosual  in  the  air,  they  comes 
troopin'  over  to  the  Red  Light  to  note  what 
happens  next. 


That  Turner  Person 219 

"  'Young  man,'  says  Enright,  when  the 
Turner  person  has  been  brought  in,  'by  way 
of  starter,  let  me  inquire,  be  you  preepared  to 
surrender  your  destinies,  of  which  you're 
plumb  onfitted  to  have  charge,  into  disgusted 
albeit  kindly  hands?' 

"The  Turner  person,  some  oneasy  at  seein' 
Moore,  who's  carelessly  toyin'  with  a  lariat, 
edgin'  'round  his  way,  allows  in  tremblin'  tones 
he  is. 

'Thar  be  those,'  goes  on  Enright,  'who 
with  the  best  intentions  in  the  world,  has  been 
explorin'  the  ins  an'  outs  of  your  Sni-a-bar 
troubles,  an'  while  the  clouds  is  measur'ble 
lifted  the  fresh  light  shed  on  your  concerns 
leaves  you  in  a  most  imbecile  sityooation. 
Which  if  I  thought  that  little  Enright  Peets, 
not  yet  in  techin'  distance  of  his  teens,  hadn't 
got  no  more  sense  than  you,  much  as  I  dotes 
upon  that  baby  I'd  shore  vote  for  his  deemise. 
However,  proceedin'  with  the  deal,  thar's  this 
to  say:  Nellie  thar,  writes  to  your  Peggy 
sweetheart,  while  I  opens  negotiations  with  old 
man  Parks.  I  plans  to  read  you  them  replies, 
but  after  advisin'  with  the  Doc,  an'  collectin' 
the  views  of  Nell,  it's  deemed  s'fficient  to  tell 


220        Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

you  what  you're  goin'  to  do,  an'  then  head  you 
fo'th  to  its  accomplishment.  Our  conj'int 
findin's,  the  same  bein'  consented  to  by  old 
Parks  in  writin',  an'  tearfully  deesired  by  your 
Peggy  sweetheart  in  what  she  commoonicates 
to  Nellie,  is  that  you  proceed  at  once  to  Sni-a- 
bar,  an'  get  them  interrupted  nuptials  over. 
After  which  you'll  be  free  to  return  yere  with 
your  bride,  an'  take  up  the  hon'rable  an'  use 
ful  c'reer  you've  marked  out.  As  the  pree- 
sidin'  officer  of  the  Stranglers,  my  word  is  that 
you  be  ready  to  start  by  next  stage;  which, 
onless  Monte  gets  so  deep  in  licker  that  he 
tips  that  conveyance  over  a  bluff,  should  per 
mit  you  to  clasp  your  Peggy  to  your  bosom 
an'  kiss  the  tears  from  her  cheeks  by  the  mid 
dle  of  next  week.' 

*  'But,'  interjects  the  Turner  person,  his 
voice  soundin'  like  the  terrified  bleatin'  of  a 
sheep,  'can't  you-all  give  me  no  glimmer  of 
what's  wrong  that  time?  I  don't  hanker  over 
much  to  go  back  in  darkened  ignorance,  like 
a  lamb  to  the  slaughter.  What  guarantee 
have  I  got  that  old  Parks  won't  lay  for  me 
with  that  bootcher  knife  of  his'n?  It  ain't  fair 
to  leave  me  to  go  knockin'  about,  in  the  midst 


That  Turner  Person  221 

of  perils  sech  as  these,  like  a  blind  dog  in  a 
meat  shop.' 

"  'Your  Peggy,5  returns  Enright,  'encloses 
a  letter  to  you  by  the  hand  of  Nellie  yere, 
which  may  or  may  not  set  fo'th  what  insults 
you  perp'trates  upon  her  fam'ly.  Also,  said 
missive  furnishes  the  only  chance  at  this  end 
of  the  trail  of  you  findin'  out  the  len'th  an' 
breadth  of  your  ignorant  iniquities.  For  my- 
se'f,  the  thought  of  what  you-all  does  that 
time  is  so  infooriatin'  I  must  refuse  to  go  over 
it  in  words.  Only,  if  in  his  first  reesentments 
old  Parks  had  burned  you  at  the  stake,  I 
would  not  have  condemned  him.  As  to  your 
safety  pers'nal,  you  can  regyard  it  as  as- 
shored.  Your  Peggy  will  protect  you,  an' 
your  footure  parent-in-law  himse'f  acquits  you 
of  everything  except  bein'  an  eediot.  It's, 
however,  got  down  to  whether  he  preefers  to 
have  a  fool  in  his  fam'ly  or  see  his  darter 
wretched  for  life,  an'  he's  done  nerved  himse'f 
to  take  the  fool.' 

"  'Thar's  your  sweetheart's  letter,'  an'  Nell 
puts  an  envelope  which  smells  of  voylets  into 
the  Turner  person's  hands. 

"That  ondertaker  reads  it;  an'  after  bein' 


222        Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

confoosed  by  shame  for  a  moment,  he  begins 
to  cheer  up. 

"  'Folks,'  he  says,  kissin'  his  Peggy's  letter 
an'  stowin'  it  away  in  his  coat,  'I  trusts  a  gen'- 
rous  public  will  permit  me,  after  thankin' 
them  whose  kindness  has  smoothed  out  the 
kinks  in  my  affairs,  to  close  the  incident  with 
onlimited  drinks  for  the  camp.'  That's  all  he 
says;  an'  neither  can  we  dig  anything  further 
out  of  Enright  or  Nell. 

"We  sees  the  Turner  person  aboard  the 
stage,  an'  wishes  him  all  kinds  of  luck.  As 
Monte  straightens  out  the  reins  over  his  six 
bosses  an'  cleans  the  lash  of  his  whip  through 
his  fingers,  Peets  vouchsafes  a  partin'  word. 

"  'Neither  I  nor  Sam,'  says  Peets,  'wants 
you  to  go  away  thinkin'  that  you  an'  your 
bride  ain't  goin'  to  be  as  welcome  as  roses 
when  you  an'  she  comes  ramblin'  in  as  one  on 
your  return.' 

"  'That's  whatever,'  coincides  Nell. 

"  'Also,'  breaks  in  Enright,  'should  old 
Parks  go  to  stampin'  the  sod  or  shakin'  his 
horns,  you-all  are  to  put  up  with  them  deemon- 
strations  an'  not  make  no  aggrevatin'  ree- 
marks.  No  one  knows  better  than  you  by  now, 


WE  SEES  THE  TURNER  PERSON  ABOARD  AN*  WISHES  HIM  ALL  KINDS  OF  LUCK.      p.  222. 


That  Turner  Person  223 

how  much  cause  you  gives  that  proud  old  gent 
to  feel  harrowed.' 

"Of  course  all  of  us  is  preyed  on  by  anxiety 
to  know  whatever  awful  thing  it  is  the  Turner 
person  does.  In  the  end  it's  Missis  Rucker 
who  smokes  Enright  out. 

"  'Sam  Enright,'  says  this  yere  intrepid 
lady,  her  manner  plenty  darklin',  'you  mustn't 
forget  that  whenever  the  impulse  moves  me 
I  can  shet  down  utter  on  your  gruh.  Like 
wise,  as  a  lady,  I  not  only  knows  my  p'sition, 
but  keenly  feels  my  rights.  Which  I  don't 
aim  to  coerce  you,  but  onless  you  comes 
through  with  the  trooth  about  this  yere  Turner 
person's  felonies,  some  drastic  steps  is  on  their 
way.' 

"  'You  will  see,  Missis  Rucker,'  says  En- 
right,  who's  to  be  excoosed  for  turnin'  a  bit 
white,  'that  no  present  reason  exists  for  threat- 
enin'  me  when  I  asshores  you  that  as  far  back 
as  last  evenin'  I  fully  decides  to  lay  bar'  every 
thing.  I  do  this,  onderstand,  not  through 
fear ;  but  lest  some  folks  go  surmisin'  round  to 
the  inj'ry  of  the  innocent.  As  I  recollects  back, 
too,  I  can  see  how  the  Turner  person  slumps 
into  that  mistake,  him  first  talkin'  dog  to  that 


224        Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

canine  party  in  Battle  Row,  an'  then  askin' 
whar  does  he  go  for  the  weddin'  license.' 

"  'Sam  Enright,'  interrupts  Missis  Rucker, 
whose  flashin'  eyes  shows  she's  growin'  hys 
terical,  'don't  harass  me  with  no  p'intless 
speeches.  You  say  flat  what  it  is  he  does,  or 
take  the  consequences.' 

"  'Why,  my  dear  Missis  Rucker,'  an'  En- 
right  makes  haste  with  his  reply,  'the  thing  is 
easily  grasped.  The  paper  he  gives  the 
preacher  sharp  is  a  dog  license.  Which  that 
Turner  person  is  seekin'  to  wed  the  belle  of 
Sni-a-bar  on  a  permit  to  keep  a  dog!  The 
canine  party  he  meets  in  Battle  Row  mis- 
onderstands  a  sityooation.' 

"  'All  the  same,'  observes  Texas  to  Boggs, 
as  the  two  meets  that  evenin'  in  the  Noo  York 
store,  'thar's  one  f eachure  to  a  dog  license,  not 
perceivable  in  a  marriage  license,  which  is 
worth  gold  an'  precious  stones.  Said  docyoo- 
ment  runs  out  in  a  year.' ' 


IX 

RED  MIKE 

"Mebby  you-all  recalls  about  that  Polish 
artist  person?"  suggested  the  old  cattleman, 
tentatively;  "him  I  speaks  of  former?"  My 
gray  old  campanero  was  measuring  out  what 
he  called  his  "forty  drops,"  and,  since  this 
ceremony  necessitated  keeping  one  eye  on  his 
glass,  while  he  endeavored  to  keep  the  other 
eye  on  me,  the  contradictory  effort  resulted  in  a 
wavering  and  uncertain  expression,  not  at  all 
in  harmony  with  his  usual  positive  air.  By 
way  of  helping  conversation,  I  confessed  to 
a  clear  remembrance  of  the  "Polish  artist 
person,"  and  wound  up  by  urging  him  to  give 
the  particulars  concerning  that  interesting 
exile. 

"Well,"  he  cautiously  returned,  "thar  ain't 
nothin'  so  mighty  thrillin'  in  his  Wolfville 
c'reer.  You  see  he  ain't,  for  the  most,  no  pop'- 
lar  figure — him  bein'  a  furriner,  that  a-way, 
an'  a  artist,  an'  sufferin'  besides  from  conceit 

225 


226        Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

in  so  acoote  a  form  as  to  make  it  no  exaggera 
tion  to  say  he's  locoed.  On  account  of  these 
yere  divers  an'  sundry  handicaps,  he  don't 
achieve  no  social  success,  an'  while  he's  with 
us,  you'd  hardly  call  him  of  us. 

"Not  that  I  objects  to  this  deescendant  of 
Warsaw's  last  champion,  personal.  Which 
I'm  a  heap  like  Enright  in  sech  reespects,  an' 
shore  tol'rant.  I  finds  out  long  ago  that  the 
reason  we-all  goes  fault-findin'  about  people, 
mostly  is  because  we  don't  onderstand  concern- 
in'  them  folk's  surroundin's.  Half  the  things 
we  arches  our  necks  over,  an'  for  which  mebby 
we  feels  like  killin'  'em  a  whole  lot,  they  can't 
he'p  none.  If  we  only  savvy s  what  they're 
reely  up  ag'inst,  it's  four  for  one  we  pities  'em 
instead. 

"It's  like  one  time  'way  back  yonder,  when 
me  an'  Steve  Stevenson  has  a  sudden  an' 
abrupt  diffukulty  with  a  buffalo  bull.  We're 
camped  out  on  the  edge  of  the  Rockies  near 
the  Spanish  Peaks,  an'  me  an'  Steve,  in  the 
course  of  a  little  passear  we're  takin',  is  jest 
roundin'  a  bunch  of  plum  bushes  when,  as 
onexpected  as  a  gun  play  in  a  Bible  class,  that 
devil's  son  an'  heir  of  a  bull — who's  been  hid 


Red  Mike  227 


by  the  bushes — ups  an  charges.  Which  you 
should  have  seen  me  an'  Steve  scatter!  We 
certainly  do  onbuckle  in  some  hasty  moves! 
He's  bigger  'n  a  baggage  wagon,  an'  as  we 
leaves  our  guns  ten  rods  away  in  camp,  thar's 
nothin'  for  it  but  to  dig  out. 

"Nigh  whar  I'm  at  is  a  measley  pinon  tree, 
an'  the  way  I  swarms  aloft  among  that  vege 
table's  boughs  an'  branches  comes  mighty  clost 
to  bein'  a  lesson  to  mountain  lions.  Steve, 
who's  the  onluckiest  sport  west  of  the  Mis 
souri,  an'  famed  as  sech,  ain't  got  no  tree.  The 
best  he  can  do  is  go  divin'  into  a  hole  he  se^s 
in  some  rocks,  same  as  if  he's  a  jack-rabbit 
with  a  coyote  in  hot  pursoote. 

"Me  an'  Steve  both  bein'  safe,  an'  reegyard- 
in'  that  bull  as  baffled,  I  draws  a  breath  of  re 
lief.  That  is,  to  be  ackerate,  I  starts  to  draw 
it ;  but  before  I  so  much  as  gets  it  started,  yere 
that  inordinate  Steve  comes  b'ilin'  out  of  his 
hole  ag'in  like  he  ain't  plumb  satisfied  about 
that  bull.  The  bull's  done  give  him  up,  too,  an' 
switchin'  his  tail  some  thoughtful  has  started 
to  go  away,  when,  as  I  tells  you,  that  fool 
Steve  comes  surgin'  out  upon  his  reetreatin' 
hocks. 


228        Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

"Nacherally,  what  could  any  se'f-respectin' 
bull  do  but  wheel  an'  chase  Steve  back?  It's 
no  use,  though;  Steve  won't  have  it.  No 
sooner  does  the  bull  get  him  hived  that  a-way, 
an'  make  ready  to  reetire  to  private  life  ag'in, 
than,  bing!  yere  Steve  comes  bulgin'  like  a 
cork  out  of  a  bottle.  An'  so  it  continyoos,  a 
reg'lar  see-saw  between  Steve  an'  the  bull. 
Steve'll  go  into  his  cave  of  refooge,  prairie- 
dog  fashion,  a  foot  ahead  of  the  bull's  horns, 
only  to  be  a  foot  behind  the  bull's  tail  as  that 
painstakin'  anamile  is  arrangin'  to  deepart. 

"Which  sech  wretched  strategy  arouses  my 
contempt. 

"  'You  dad-binged  Siwash,'  I  yells  down  at 
Steve,  'why ever  don't  you- all  stay  in  that  hole, 
ontil  the  bull  forgets  whar  you're  at?' 

'  'Go  on!'  Steve  shouts  back,  as  in  he  dives, 
head-first,  for  mebby  it's  the  twentieth  time; 
'it's  as  simple  as  suckin'  aiggs,  ain't  it,  for  you 
up  in  your  tree?  You-all  don't  know  nothin' 
about  this  hole ;  thar's  a  b'ar  in  this  hole !' 

"Which  I  allers  remembers  about  that  di- 
lemmy  of  Steve's.  An'  now,  when  I  beholds 
a  gent  makin'  some  rannikaboo  break,  an' 
everybody's  scoffln'  at  him  an'  deenouncin'  him 


Red  Mike  229 


for  a  loonatic  or  worse,  I  reeflects  that  mighty 
likely  if  we-all  was  to  go  examine  the  hole  he's 
in,  we'd  find  it  plumb  full  of  b'ar. 

"Returnin'  to  the  orig'nal  proposition,  the 
same  bein'  that  Polack,  let  me  begin  by  sayin' 
that  whenever  it  comes  to  any  utterances  of 
his'n,  I'm  nacherally  onable  to  quote  him  exact. 
tWhat  with  him  rollin'  his  'Rs'  ontil  they 
sounds  like  one  of  them  snare  drums,  an'  the 
'jiggerty-jerkety  fashion  wharin  he  chops  up 
his  English,  a  gent  might  as  soon  try  to  quote 
a  planin'  mill  exact. 

"That  I'm  able  to  give  you-all  his  troo  name 
is  doo  wholly  to  him  passin'  round  his  kyard 
a  heap  profoose,  when  he  first  comes  ramblin' 
in,  said  cognomen  as  printed  bein'  'Orloff  Ivan 
Mitzkowanski,  Artist  and  Painter  of  Por 
traits.'  We  perooses  this  yere  fulm'nation  two 
or  three  times,  an'  Peets  even  reads  it  out 
loud ;  but  since  the  tongue  of  no  ordinary  gent 
is  capable  of  ropin'  an'  throwin'  it,  to  say  no- 
thin'  of  tyin'  it  down,  we  cuts  the  gordian  knot 
in  the  usual  way  by  re-christenin'  him  pro  bono 
publico  as  Red  Mike,  which  places  him  within 
the  verbal  reach  of  all. 

"  'Yes,'   he   says,   as   he  ladles   out    them 


230        Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

kyards,  an'  all  with  the  manner  of  a  prince 
conferrin'  favors — 'yes,  I'm  a  artist  come  to 
you,  seekin'  subjects  an'  color.  As  you  prob 
ably  observes  by  my  name,  I'm  a  gallant  Pole, 
one  whose  noble  ancestors  shrieks  when  Kosci- 
usko  fell.' 

"Him  bein'  a  stranger  that  a-way,  an'  no 
one,  onless  it's  Peets,  ever  havin'  heard  about 
Poland,  or  Kosciusko,  or  whoever  does  that 
shriekin'  the  time  when  Kosciusko  finds  himse'f 
bumped  off,  we  lets  Mike  get  by  with  this  yere 
bluff.  Besides,  his  name  of  itse'f  sort  o'  holds 
us.  That  anyone,  an'  specially  any  furriner, 
could  come  as  far  as  he  has,  flauntin'  a  name 
like  that  in  the  sensitive  face  of  mankind,  an' 
yet  live  to  tell  the  tale,  is  shore  plenty  pree- 
par'tory  to  believin'  anything. 

"When  we  lets  it  go  that  owin'  to  local  con 
ditions  we'll  be  obleeged  to  call  him  'Red 
Mike,'  he's  agree'ble. 

"  'As  you  will,  my  friends,'  he  cries,  bulgin' 
out  his  breast  an'  thumpin'  it.  'What  care  I, 
who  am  destined  for  immortality,  that  barbar 
ians  should  hail  me  as  Red  Mike?  It  is  enough 
that  I  am  not  destroyed,  enough  that  I  still 
move  an'  have  my  bein'!' 


Red  Mike  231 


"  'Mike,'  inter jecks  Tutt,  bristlin'  a  little, 
'don't  cut  loose  in  no  offensive  flights.  It's 
a  heap  onadvisable  when  addressin'  us  to  over 
work  that  word  "barbarian."  As  you  says 
yourself,  you're  lucky  to  be  alive ;  which,  bein' 
conceded,  it'd  be  plenty  proodent  on  your  part 
not  to  go  doin'  nothin'  to  change  your  luck.' 

"  'Steady  thar,  Dave,'  says  Enright,  'don't 
go  exhibitin'  your  teeth  to  a  pore  benighted 
furriner,  an'  him  not  onto  our  curves.' 

'  'Him  bein'  a  furriner,'  retorts  Tutt,  'is 
but  a  added  argyooment  in  favor  of  him  takin' 
heed.  Speakin'  for  myse'f,  I  in  partic'lar 
don't  want  no  furriner  to  step  on  my  tail  an* 
stand  thar,  same  as  if  my  f  eelin's  ain't  goin'  to 
count.' 

"  'Be  composed,  my  friend,'  says  Mike, 
tryin'  to  follow  Enright  out  an'  squar'  him- 
se'f  with  Tutt — 'be  composed.  I  reetract  the 
"barbarians"  an'  suggest  a  drink.' 

'"That's  all  right,  Mike,'  returns  Tutt, 
who's  easy  mollified;  'still  I  onreservedly  says 
ag'in  that  in  Arizona  thar's  nothin'  in  becom- 
in'  too  difoose.  All  that  this  time  lets  you  out, 
Mike,  is  that  havin'  jest  had  our  feed  we're 
happ'ly  lethargic.  Which  if  you'd  let  fly  that 


*232        Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

crack  about  barbarians,  an'  us  not  fed  none, 
some  gent  not  otherwise  employed  'd  have 
seized  upon  you  as  a  mop-rag  wharwith  to 
wipe  up  the  floor.' 

"Thar's  allers  a  dispoote  as  to  whether  or 
no  Mike  reely  commits  sooicide  that  time. 
Tutt  an'  Texas  holds  to  the  last  that  his  light 
gettin'  blowed  out  like  it  does  is  accidental. 
Peets,  however,  insists  it's  a  shore-enough  sooi 
cide.  Of  course,  Boggs  goes  with  Peets. 
Whatever 's  the  question  at  bay,  Boggs  never 
fails  to  string  his  play  with  the  Doc's;  it's 
Boggs 's  system.  All  you  has  to  do  to  get  a 
rise  out  o'  Boggs  is  get  some  opinion  out  o' 
Peets.  Once  the  Doc  declar's  himse'f,  Boggs 
is  right  thar  to  back  said  declaration  for  his 
last  dollar*  every  time. 

"As  sustainin'  his  claim  of  sooicide,  Peets 
p'ints  out  that  thar's  no  gent,  not  a  howlin' 
eediot  complete,  but  knows  s'fficient  of  giant 
powder  to  be  dead  on  to  how  it's  cap'ble  of 
bein'  fired  by  friction. 

"  'Why,'  he  says,  eloocidatin'  hisxp'sition, 

even  darkened  savages  is  posted  as  to  that.    I 

once  sees  a  South  Sea  Islander,  in  a  moose* 

yum  East,  who  sets  a  bunch  of  shavin's  in  a 


Red  Mike  233 


blaze  by  rubbin'  together  two  sticks.  An'  this 
yere  Mike  is  a  eddycated  sharp,  eddicated  at 
a  Dutch  outfit  called  Heidelberg.  Do  you-all 
reckon  a  gradyooate  of  sech  a  sem'nary  ever 
walks  out  on  a  cold  collar,  him  not  wise,  an' 
performs  in  the  numbskull  fashions  as  this 
yere  Mike?' 

"  'That's  whatever!'  chimes  in  Boggs. 

"As  I  tells  you,  any  emphatic  idee  laid 
down  by  Peets  instantly  sets  Boggs  to  strikin' 
same  as  one  of  them  cuckoo  clocks. 

"Enright? 

"The  old  silver  tip  stands  nootral,  not  sidin' 
with  either  Peets  an'  Boggs  or  Tutt  an'  Texas. 

"  'Which  this  yere  Mike  bein'  shore  dead,' 
says  Enright,  'strikes  me  as  s'fficient.  I  plants 
my  moccasins  on  that,  an'  don't  go  pirootin' 
an'  projectin'  about  for  no  s'lootions  which 
may  or  may  not  leave  me  out  on  a  limb.' 

"You  recalls  how  it's  Monte  who,  while 
gettin'  drunk  with  him  over  to  the  Oriental 
S'loon  in  Tucson,  deloodes  Mike  into  p'intin' 
our  way.  Also,  what  Enright  says  to  that  de- 
boshed  stage  driver  for  so  doin'.  Enright 's 
shore  fervent  on  that  occasion,  an'  the  lan 
guage  he  uses  would  have  killed  two  acres  of 


234        Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

grass.  But  that  don't  he'p  none.  After  the 
dust  Enright  paws  up  has  settled,  thar's  Mike 
still,  all  quiled  up  in  the  Wolfville  lap. 

" Thar's  a  worse  feachure,  the  same  bein' 
Mike's  wife.  She's  as  young,  an'  mighty  nigh 
as  lovely,  too,  as  Nell;  only  she's  blind, 
this  yere  Mike's  girl  wife  is,  blind  as  any  mid 
night  mole.  Besides  her,  an'  a  armful  of  paint 
breshes  an'  pictures,  about  all  Mike's  got  in 
the  way  of  plunder  is  a  ten-dollar  bill.  If  it's 
only  Mike,  we-all  might  have  thickened  our 
hides  a  heap,  an'  let  him  go  jumpin'  sideways 
for  his  daily  grub,  same  as  other  folks.  But 
girls  must  be  fed,  speshully  blind  ones. 

"Which  this  egreegious  Mike,  who  calls 
her  his  'little  Joolie,'  allows  her  bein'  blind  that 
a-way  is  why  he  marries  her. 

'  'It  inshores  her  innocence,'  he  says ;  'be 
cause  it  inshores  her  ignorance  of  the  world.' 

'  'Likewise,'  remarks  Peets,  as  we  stands 
discussin'  this  yere  reasonin'  of  Mike's  in  the 
Red  Light,  'it  inshores  her  ignorance  of  them 
onmitigated  pictures  he  paints.  Which  if  ever 
she  was  just  to  get  one  good  look  at  'em,  he 
couldn't  hold  her  with  a  Spanish  bit.  But  you- 
all  knows  how  it  is,  Sam?' — Yere  Peets  clinks 


Red  Mike  235 


his  glass,  an'  all  mighty  sagacious,  ag'inst  En- 
right's — 'The  wind  is  tempered  to  the  shorn 
lamb.  On  the  whole,  I  ain't  none  convinced 
that  her  bein'  blind,  that  a-way,  ain't  for  the 
best.' 

"To  look  at  this  little  Joolie,  you-all  'd 
never  know  she  can't  see  none.  Her  eyes  is 
big  an'  soft  an'  deep,  an  nothin'  queer  about 
'em  except  they  has  a  half-blurred,  baby  look. 
Peets  allows  it's  the  nerve  bein'  dead  which 
does  it.  But  blind  or  not,  little  Joolie  shore 
dotes  on  that  Red  Mike  husband  of  hers,  as 
though  he's  made  of  love  an'  gold.  Which 
he's  her  heaven ! 

"While  it's  evident,  after  a  ca'm  an'  on- 
biased  consideration  of  his  works,  that  from 
standp'ints  of  art  this  yere  Mike's  about  sign- 
painter  size,  little  Joolie  regyards  him  as  the 
top-sawyer  genius  of  this  or  any  other  age. 

'  'He'll  revolutionize  the  world  of  art,'  she 
declar's  to  Nell,  who's  mighty  constant  about 
goin'  to  see  her;  'Ivan' — she  pronounces  it 
'Vahn' — 'is  ondoubted  destined  to  become  the 
founder  of  a  noo  school.' 

"  'An'  her  face,'  goes  on  Nellie,  as  she  tells 
us  about  it  over  to  the  O.  K.  Restauraw  one 


*236        Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

evenin',  after  Mike  an'  his  little  Joolie  wife's 
done  pulled  their  freight  for  the  night — 'an' 
her  face  glows  with  the  faith  of  a  angel!  So 
if  any  of  you-all  boys  finds  occasion  to  speak 
of  this  yere  Mike  in  her  presence,  you  be  shore 
an'  sw'ar  that,  as  an  artist,  he's  got  nacher 
backed  plumb  off  the  lay-out.' 

"  'The  wretch  who  fails,'  adds  Missis 
Rucker,  plenty  fierce,  'don't  wrastle  his  hash 
with  me  no  more !  You  can  gamble  that  mar 
plot  has  tackled  his  final  plateful  of  slapjacks 
at  the  O.  K.  House,  an'  this  yere's  notice  to 
that  effect.' 

"It's  a  cinch,  of  course,  that  none  of  us  is 
that  obtoose  as  to  go  sayin'  anything  to  pain 
this  yere  blind  little  Joolie;  at  the  same  time 
no  one  regyards  it  as  feas'ble  to  resent  them 
threats  of  Missis  Rucker!  She's  a  mighty 
sperited  matron,  Missis  Rucker  is,  sperited  to 
the  verge  of  bein'  vindictive,  an'  rubbin'  her 
fur  the  wrong  way  is  the  same  as  rubbin'  a 
bobcat's  fur  the  wrong  way.  As  a  exercise 
thar's  nothin'  in  it.  Besides,  we're  plumb  used 
to  it,  owin'  to  her  threatenin'  us  about  one 
thing  or  another  constant.  Menaces,  that 
a-way,  is  Missis  Rucker's  style. 


Red  Mike  237 


"Mike  an'  his  Joolie  wife  don't  live  at  the 
O.  K.  House,  but  only  gets  their  chuck  thar. 
He  allows  that  to  do  jestice  to  his  art  he's  got 
to  have  what  he  calls  a  'no'th  light,'  an'  so  he 
goes  meanderin'  out  on  the  no'th  side  of  town, 
an'  jumps  a  empty  shack. 

"Driv  by  a  lack  of  money,  mighty  likely, 
Mike  ain't  in  camp  a  week  before  he  makes  it 
plenty  plain  that,  onless  he's  headed  off  or 
killed,  he's  goin'  to  paint  Enright  a  whole  lot. 
As  a  preelim'nary  he  loores  a  passel  of  us  over 
to  his  wickeyup  to  show  us  samples. 

'That's  my  chef  dever,'  he  says,  bringin' 
for'ard  a  smudgy  lookin'  canvas,  plastered  all 
over  with  reds  an'  browns. 

"We-all  takes  a  slant  at  it,  maintainin'  our 
selves  meanwhile  as  grave  as  a  passel  of  owls. 
An'  at  that  the  most  hawk-eyed  in  the  outfit 
can't  make  it  look  like  nothin'.  We-all  hangs 
back  in  the  straps,  an'  waits  for  Peets  to  take 
the  lead.  For  thar  is  the  pretty  little  blind 
Joolie  wife,  all  y'ears  an'  lovin'  interest,  an' 
after  what  Nell  an'  Missis  Rucker  has  done 
said  the  gent  who  lacerates  her  feelin's  is  lost. 
In  sech  a  pinch  Peets  is  our  guidin'  light. 
1  'Massive !'  says  Peets,  after  a  pause. 


238        Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

*  Which  she's  skore  a  heap  massive !'  we 
murmurs,  followin'  Peets'  smoke. 

'  'An'  sech  atmosphere !'  Peets  goes  on. 

'  'Atmosphere  to  give  away!'  we  echoes. 

"At  these  yere  encomiyums  the  pore  pleased 
face  of  little  Joolie  is  beamin'  like  the  sun. 
As  for  Mike,  he  assoomes  a  easy  attitoode, 
same  as  though  compliments  means  nothin'  to 
him. 

"  'What's  the  subject?'  Peets-asks. 

"  'That,  my  friend,  is  the  Linden  in  Octo 
ber'  returns  Mike,  as  though  he's  showin'  us 
a  picture  of  heaven's  front  gate.  'Yes,  the 
lLinden  in  October/ 

"  'Which  if  this  yere  Pole,'  whispers  Texas 
to  Cherokee,  'is  able  to  make  anything  out 
of  that  smear,  he  can  shore  see  more  things 
without  the  aid  of  licker  than  any  sport 
that  ever  spreads  his  blankets  in  Cochise 
County.' 

"Texas  is  a  heap  careful  not  to  let  either 
Mike  or  the  little  Joolie  girl  ketch  on  to  what 
he  says. 

"Also,  it's  worth  recallin'  that  Mike  an'  the 
little  Joolie  is  the  only  wedded  pa'r,  of  which 
the  Southwest  preeserved  a  record,  that  don't 


"WHAT'S  THE  SUBJECT?"  PEETS  ASKS.     "THAT,  MY  FRIEND,  is  THE  'LINDEN  IN 

OCTOBER,'"  RETURNS    MIKE,    AS    THOUGH    HE*8    A    SHOWIN*    US    A    PICTURE    OF 

HEAVEN'S  FRONT  GATE.  p.  23^. 


Red  Mike  239 


bring  bilious  recollections  to  Texas  of  his  for 
mer  Laredo  wife. 

"  'Not  but  what  thar's  a  wrong  thar,  Doc,' 
he  insists,  the  time  Peets  mentions  it;  'not  but 
what  this  yere  Red  Mike-Joolie  sityooation 
harbors  a  wrong.  Only  it's  onavailable  to 
'llustrate  the  illyoosage  I  suffers  at  the  hands 
of  my  Laredo  wife.' 

"After  the  Linden  Mike  totes  out  mebby  it's 
a  dozen  other  smeary  squar's  of  canvas.  We 
goes  over  'em  one  by  one,  cockin'  our  eyes  an' 
turnin'  our  heads  first  one  way  an'  then  an 
other,  like  a  bloo  jay  peerin'  into  a  knothole. 
When  Peets  lets  drive  something  about  'sky 
effects,'  an'  'fore-grounds,'  an'  'middle-dis 
tance,'  we  stacks  in  all  sim'lar.  Thar's  nothin' 
to  it;  Mike  an'  the  little  Joolie  girl  puts  in  a 
mighty  pleasant  hour. 

"Mike,  feelin'  hospit'ble,  an'  replyin'  to  a 
thirsty  look  which  Jack  Moore  sort  o'  sheds 
about  the  room,  reegrets  he  ain't  got  no 
whiskey. 

'  'My  little  Joolie  objectin','  he  explains. 
'  'Oh,  well,'  speaks  up  Peets,  who's  plumb 
eager  to  bring  them  art  studies  to  a  wind-up, 
'when  thar's  famine  in  Canaan  thar's  corn  in 


240         Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

Egypt.  S'ppose  we-all  goes  romancin'  over 
to  the  Red  Light  an'  licker  up.  Thar's  nothin' 
like  nosepaint,  took  internal,  for  bringin'  out 
a  picture's  convincin'  p'ints.' 

"  'Right  you  be,  Doc,'  says  Moore.  'It's 
only  last  week,  when  I  myse'f  cuts  the  trail 
of  Monte,  who,  as  the  froote  of  merely  the 
seventh  drink,  is  sheddin'  scaldin'  tears  over 
a  three-sheet  poster  stuck  onto  the  corral  gate. 
This  yere  stampede  in  color  deepicts  the  death 
of  "Little  Eva,"  as  preesented  in  the  Uncle 
Tom  show  ragin'  over  to  the  Bird  Cage  Op'ry 
House.  Monte  allows  it's  one  of  the  most 
movin'  things  he's  ever  met  up  with,  an'  pro 
tests  between  sobs  ag'inst  takin'  out  the  stage 
that  day  for  its  reg'lar  trip.  "Which  it's  a 
hour  for  mournin',"  he  groans;  an'  he's  shore 
shocked  when  the  company  insists.  As  he 
throws  free  the  brake  he  shakes  the  tears  from 
his  eyes,  an'  says,  "These  yere  corp'rations 
ain't  got  no  heart!" 

"If  thar's  ever  any  chance  of  Enright  bein' 
that  weak  the  sight  of  them  smudges  an' 
smears  settles  it,  an'  while  we  stands  shovin'  the 
Old  Jordan  along  the  Red  Light  bar,  he  al 
lows  to  Mike  that  on  the  whole  he  don't  reckon 


Red  Mike  241 


he'll  have  himse'f  painted  none.  Remembering 
however,  that  it's  a  ground-hawg  case  with 
Mike,  who  needs  the  money,  Enright  gives 
him  a  commission  to  paint  Monte. 

"  'Him  bein'  a  histor'cal  character,  that 
a-way,'  says  Enright. 

"Monte  is  over  in  Tucson,  but  you  should 
have  heard  that  drunkard's  language  when  he's 
told. 

"  'Whatever  be  you-all  tryin'  to  do  to  me, 
Sam?'  he  wails.  'Ain't  a  workin'  man  got  no 
rights?  Yere  be  I,  the  only  gent  in  camp  who 
has  actchooal  dooties  to  perform,  an'  a  plot  is 
set  afoot  behind  my  back  to  make  me  infa 
mous  !' 

"  'It's  to  go  over  the  Red  Light  bar,'  ex 
plains  Enright,  'to  be  a  horr'ble  example  for 
folks  with  a  tendency  to  over-drink.  As  for 
you  yellin'  like  a  pig  onder  a  gate,  who  is  it> 
I  asks,  that  beguiles  this  indigent  artist  party 
into  camp,  an'  leaves  him  on  our  hands? 
Bein'  he's  yere,  I  takes  it  that  even  your 
whiskey-drowned  intell'gence  ree'lizes  that  this 
yere  Mike,  an'  speshully  the  little  blind  Joolie, 
has  got  to  be  fed.' 

"  'Well,    gents,'    returns    Monte,    gulpin* 


242         Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

down  his  grief  with  his  nosepaint,  'I  reckons 
if  it's  your  little  game  to  use  me  as  a  healthful 
moral  inflooence,  I'd  lose  out  to  go  puttin'  up 
a  roar.  All  the  same,  as  sufferer  in  chief,  I'm 
entitled  to  be  more  consulted  by  you  uplifters 
before  ever  you  arranges  to  perpetchooate  me 
to  poster 'ty  as  a  common  jeer.' 

"Shore;  these  yere  protests  of  Monte's  ain't 
more'n  half  on  the  level.  After  a  fashion,  he's 
plenty  pleased. 

"  'For,'  he  says,  confidin'  in  Black  Jack  over 
his  licker,  'it  ain't  every  longhorn  of  a  stage 
driver  whose  picture  is  took  by  one  of  these 
yere  gifted  Yooropeans.' 

"Black  Jack  agrees  to  this  in  full,  for  he's 
a  good-hearted  barkeep,  that  a-way. 

"In  doo  time  the  picture's  hung  up  back  of 
the  Red  Light  bar.  Regyarded  as  a  portrait 
it's  shore  some  desp'rate,  an'  even  Enright  sort 
o*  half  reepents.  Monte,  after  studyin'  it 
a  while,  begins  to  get  sore  in  earnest.  Them 
scales,  like  the  scriptoors  say,  certainly  do  fall 
from  his  eyes. 

"  'Jack,'  he  says,  appealin'  to  Moore,  who 
happens  to  be  present,  'does  that  thing  look 
like  me?' 


Red  Mike  243 


"  'Why,  yes,5  Jack  replies,  squintin'  his  left 
eye  a  heap  critical;  'to  be  shore  it  flatters  you 
some,  but  then  them  artists  gen'rally  does.' 

"  'Jack,  if  I'm  that  feeble  as  to  go  believin' 
what  you  says,  I'd  borry  a  shotgun  from  the 
express  company  and  blow  off  the  top  of  my 
head.  That  ain't  the  portrait  of  no  hooman 
bein' ' — an'  Monte  raises  a  dispa'rin'  hand 
at  the  picture;  'it's  a  croode  presentation  of 
some  onnacheral  cross  between  a  coyote  and 
a  cowskin  trunk.' 

"Cherokee  gets  up  from  behind  his  layout, 
an'  strolls  over  so's  to  get  a  line  on  the  picture. 
He  takes  a  long  an'  disparagin'  survey. 

1  'It  ain't  that  I'm  incitin'  you  to  voylence, 
Monte,'  he  remarks  final,  'but  if  you  owes  a 
dooty  to  s'ciety,  don't  forget  that  you  owes 
also  a  dooty  to  yourse'f.  You'll  be  lackin'  in 
se'f-respect  if  you  don't  give  Sam  Enright  two 
weeks  to  take  that  outrage  down,  an'  if  it  ain't 
removed  by  then  you'll  bust  it.' 

"Black  Jack  is  ag'in  the  picture,  too. 

"  'Not,'  he  says,  'that  I  wants  to  put  the 
smother  on  it  entire;  only  I  figger  it'd  look 
better  in  the  post  office,  folks  not  makin'  it  so 
much  of  a  hangout.  Regyarded  commercial, 


244         Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

it's  a  setback  to  the  Red  Light.  Some  gent 
comes  trackin'  up  intent  on  drinks,  an'  feelin' 
gala.  After  one  glance  at  Monte  up  thar 
it's  all  off.  That  reveller's  changed  his  mind, 
an'  staggers  out  into  the  open  ag'in  without  a 
word.  The  joint  is  daily  knocked  for  about 
the  price  of  a  stack  of  bloos,  as  the  direct  re 
sult  of  that  work  of  art.  Which  I'd  as  soon 
have  a  gila  monster  in  the  winder.' 

"Mike  ain't  present  none  when  all  this  yere 
flattery  is  flyin'.  If  he  was  thar  in  person 
nothin'  would  have  been  said.  Whoever'd  be 
that  hardened  as  to  go  harrowin'  up  the  sens'- 
tive  soul  of  a  artist,  even  if  his  work  don't 
grade  as  corn-fed? 

"Some  later  tribyoote  to  his  talents,  how 
ever,  reaches  the  y'ears  of  Mike.  On  the  back 
of  Black  Jack's  protests  the  Lightnin'  Bug, 
who's  come  over  from  Red  Dog  for  a  little 
visit,  drifts  in.  When  he  sees  Monte's  portrait 
his  eyes  lights  up  like  a  honka-tonk  on  Satur 
day  night. 

"  'Rattlesnakes  an'  stingin'  lizards !'  he  cries ; 
'which  I'm  a  Mexican  if  you-all  ain't  gone  an' 
got  him  painted!  However  do  you-all  man 
age  ?  I  remembers  when  we  captures  him ;  it's 


Bed  Mike  245 


the  last  spring  round-up  but  one.  Two  weeks 
goes  by  before  ever  we  gets  him  so  he'll  w'ar 
clothes!  An'  even  then  we-all  has  to  blind 
fold  him  an'  back  him  in!' 

*  Whoever  do  you  reckon  that  is,  Bug?' 
asks  Black  Jack. 

"  'It's  that  locoed  Digger  Injun,  ain't  it?' 
says  the  Bug;  'him  we  corrals,  that  time,  livin' 
on  ants  an'  crickets,  an'  roots  an'  yarbs,  over 
in  Potato  canyon?' 

"  'It's  Monte.' 

'  'Monte !  Does  anybody  get  killed  about 
it?' 

"Black  Jack  mentions  Mike  as  the  artist. 

"  'What,  that  Dutch  galoot  with  the  long 
ha'r?'  says  the  Bug. 

"'Which  he's  a  Pole.' 

"Pole  or  Dutchman,  what's  the  odds?  I 
sees  a  party  back  in  Looeyville  whose  ha'r's 
most  as  long  as  his.  We  entices  him  to  a 
barber  shop  on  a  bet  to  have  it  cut,  an'  I'm 
ag'in  the  union  if  four  flyin'  squirrels  don't 
come  scootin'  out.  They've  been  nestin'  in  it.' 

"The  Bug  swings  lightly  into  the  saddle 
after  a  while,  an'  goes  clatterin'  back  to  Red 
Dog.  No  notice  would  have  been  took  of  what 


246         Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

he  says,  only  Monte,  who  hears  it  from  Black 
Jack,  is  that  malev'lent  he  goes  an'  tells 
Mike. 

"  'You-all  will  make  trouble  between  'em, 
Monte,'  Nell  reemonstrates,  when  Monte's 
braggin'  in  his  besotted  way  about  what  he's 
done. 

"  'That's  all  right,  Nellie.  Both  of  'em's 
been  insultin'  me;  Mike  by  paintin'  me  so  I'm 
a  holy  show,  an'  the  Bug  by  lettin'  on  to  take 
me  for  a  Digger  buck.  S'ppose  the  Bug  downs 
Mike,  or  Mike  does  up  the  Bug?  Either  way 
it's  oats  in  your  uncle  Monte's  feed  box. 
That's  me,  Nellie ;  that's  your  old  uncle  Monte 
every  time!  Which,  when  it  comes  to  cold  in 
trigue,  that  a-way,  I'm  the  swiftest  sport  in 
our  set.' 

"On  hearin'  about  the  Bug  from  Monte 
Mike  gets  plenty  intemp'rate.  He  goes  plumb 
in  the  air,  an'  stays  thar.  He  gives  it  out  that 
he's  goin'  to  prance  over  to  Red  Dog  an'  lay 
for  the  Bug.  Nothin'  but  blood  is  goin'  to  do 
him. 

"Thar's  nothin'  we  can  say  or  do  to  stop 
Mike,  so  after  talkin'  it  over  a  spell  we  dee- 
cides  to  throw  him  loose,  Enright  first  sendin' 


Red  Mike  247 


word  that  he's  harmless,  an'  not  to  be  bumped 
off. 

"Upon  receivin'  Enright's  word  the  Red 
Dog  chief  passes  on  a  warnin'  to  the  Bug. 
Mike  mustn't,  onder  no  circumstances,  be 
killed.  Bein'  he's  a  artist  he's  not  reespon- 
s'ble. 

"  'Me  kill  him!'  cries  the  Bug,  who's  scan 
dalized  at  the  idee;  'me  take  a  gun  to  sech  a 
insect!  Gents,  I've  too  much  reespect  for 
them  good  old  faithful  .45 's  of  mine  to  play  it 
as  low  down  on  'em  as  all  that.' 

"Which  there  leeniencies  I  allers  feels  is  on 
account  of  the  little  Joolie,  an'  the  blind  love 
she  entertains  for  Mike.  When  the  worst  does 
come  we  carefully  conceals  from  her  the  troo 
details,  an'  insists  that  the  powder  house  goes 
off  by  itse'f . 

"Then  Nell,  with  Tucson  Jennie  and  Missis 
Rucker  to  back  her,  carries  the  little  Joolie 
girl  the  news.  It's  shore  tough  papers;  an' 
Missis  Rucker  an'  Tucson  Jennie  is  kept  racin' 
an'  runnin'  an'  riotin'  between  the  O.  K.  House 
an'  Mike's  wickeyup,  freightin'  over  camphor 
an'  sim'lar  reestor'tives  to  the  little  Joolie  all 
night  long,  while  Nellie  holds  her  head. 


248         Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

"Does  Mike's  kickin'  the  bucket  leave  the 
little  Joolie  broke?  It's  this  a- way:  You  see 
we-all  chips  in,  an'  makes  up  a  fa'rly  moderate 
pile  to  buy  the  Linden  in  October. 

6  'It's  to  remember  your  gifted  husband  by,' 
explains  Enright,  as  him  an'  Peets  an'  Boggs 
goes  over  to  clink  down  the  gold,  an'  get  the 
Linden.  'This  yere  transcendent  spec 'men 
shall  never  leave  our  hands.' 

'  'Not  while  we  live !'  declar's  Peets. 

c  'It's  a  marv'lous  picture !'  returns  the  little 
Joolie  girl,  proud  and  tearful  both  at  once. 

"  'Marv'lous !'  repeats  Peets ;  'it's  got  the 
Afngelus  beat  four  ways  from  the  Jack/ 

"  'Which  I  should  remark!'  puts  in  Boggs. 
'Why,  Doc,  this  yere  Linden  of  ours  shore 
makes  that  Angelus  thing  look  like  an  old  beer 
stamp.' 

"These  yere  outpourin's  of  onreestricted  ad 
miration  shore  does  set  the  little  Joolie  to  smil- 
in'  through  her  tears.  Also,  the  bankroll 
they  brings  her  sends  her  back  to  her  folks 
in  style. 

"So  you  don't  regyard  it  as  the  proper  caper 
to  go  deceivin'  the  little  Joolie  girl?  That's 
preecisely  the  p'sition  a  Bible  sharp  over  in 


Red  Mike  249 


Tucson  takes,  when  some  party's  mentionin' 
the  business. 

"  'You  go  tell  that  doubtin'  Thomas  of  a 
sky-pilot,'  says  Peets,  on  hearin'  about  it,  'that 
he  can  bet  a  ton  of  Watts'  hymn  books  on  it. 
You-all  say,  too,  for  his  pulpit  guidance,  that 
what  looks  like  deceit,  that  a-way,  is  often  sim 
ple  del'cacy,  while  Christian  charity  freequent 
w'ars  the  face  of  fraud.' 

"But  I'm  gettin'  ahead  of  the  wagons. 
Mike,  who's  a  heap  heated,  goes  lookin'  for  the 
Bug  in  the  Tub  of  Blood  S'loon.  The  Bug 
don't  happen  to  be  vis'ble  no  whar  in  the 
scen'ry  when  Mike  comes  clatterin'  in.  By 
way  of  a  enterin'  wedge  Mike  subscribes  for  a 
drink.  As  the  Tub  barkeep  goes  settin'  out 
the  glasses  Mike,  with  his  custom'ry  gifts  for 
gettin'  himse'f  in  wrong,  starts  fomentin' 
trouble.  An'  at  that  it's  simply  his  ignorance, 
an'  a  conceited  deesire  to  show  off  among  them 
Red  Dogs. 

"As  the  Tub  barkeep  slams  down  the  crock 
ery  Mike  barks  up  sort  o'  sharp  an'  peev 
ish: 

'The  ice!    Ain't  you  people  got  no  ice?' 

"The  Tub  barkeep  takes  a  sour  squinch- 


250        Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

owl  look  at  Mike.    Theirhe  goes  softly  swab- 
bin'  off  the  counter. 

"After  a  while  he  looks  up  an'  says: 

'Which  you  don't  notice  no  swirlin*  drifts 
of  snow  outside,  do  you?  You  ain't  been  swal 
lowed  up  in  no  blizzard,  be  you,  comin'  into 
town?  No,  my  stilted,  stiff-laigged  sheep  of 
the  mountain,  we  ain't  got  no  ice.' 

"Mike,  feelin'  some  buffaloed  by  the  bar- 
keep's  manner,  don't  say  no  more.  In  silence 
he  drinks  his  licker,  an'  then  sets  down  at  a 
table. 

"The  barkeep,  with  the  tail  of  his  eye,  con- 
tinyoos  to  look  him  over. 

"  'Whatever  do  you  make  of  that  crazy 
maverick,'  he  asks  of  a  freighter,  who's  jest 
rolled  in  from  Lordsburg.  'The  idee  of  him 
askin'  for  ice  in  August!' 

"  'Mebby  he's  the  ha'r-brained  party  they 
sends  word  about  from  Wolfville,'  the  freighter 
replies — 'him  who's  out  to  crawl  the  Bug's 
hump  a  whole  lot?' 

"  'That's  the  identical  persimmon!'  exclaims 
the  barkeep,  slammin'  his  hand  on  the  counter. 
'Which  I  ought  to  have  knowed  it  without 
bein'  told.  I  wonder  if  Peets,  or  some  of  them 


Red  Mike  251 


other  Wolfville  sports,  puts  him  up  to  come 
bully-raggin'  round  yere  about  ice  to  insult 
us?' 

"The  freighter  allows  he'll  edge  into  a  pow 
wow  with  Mike,  an'  feel  him  out. 

"Planted  at  the  same  table,  the  freighter  an* 
Mike  is  soon  as  thick  as  thieves.  They're  get- 
tin'  along  like  two  pups  in  a  basket,  when  in 
comes  a  disturbin'  element  in  the  shape  of  one 
of  them  half-hoss  half-alligator  felons,  whose 
distinguishin'  characteristic  is  that  they're  al- 
lers  grouchy  an'  hostile.  That's  the  drawback 
to  Red  Dog.  It  certainly  is  the  home  camp 
of  some  of  the  most  ornery  reptiles,  that 
a -way ! 

"The  grouchy  sorehead  party,  from  the 
(jump,  gets  dissatisfied  about  Mike's  ha'r, 
which  he  w'ars  a  foot  long  same  as  all  artists. 
Which  a  gent  can't  be  no  painter  onless  he's 
got  ha'r  like  a  cow  pony.  The  sorehead  party 
marches  up  an'  down  by  the  table  whar  Mike 
an'  the  freighter  is  swappin'  lies,  schemin'  as 
to  how  he's  goin'  to  make  a  warlike  hook-up 
with  Mike.  After  a  spell  he  thinks  he  sees  his 
way  through,  an'  rounds  to  an'  growls. 

' What's  that?    Does  one  of  your  onparal- 


252         Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

leled    tarrapins    say    something    deerog'tory 
about  George  Washin'ton?' 

"Both  the  freighter  an'  Mike  looks  up  some 
amazed,  but  pleads  not  guilty.  They  ain't, 
they  says,  even  thinkin'  of  Washin'ton. 

'Which  I  begs  your  parding,'  returns 
Sorehead,  snortin'  mighty  haughty  an'  elab'- 
rate;  'I  fancies  I  hears  some  one  make  some 
onbecomin'  remark  about  Washin'ton.  Mighty 
likely  it's  that  licker  I  drinkt  last  night.' 

"Two  minutes  later  he  halts  ag'in. 

'  'It  ain't  possible  I'm  mistook  this  time. 
An'  at  that  I  don't  precisely  ketch  what  you 
offensive  ground-owls  is  observin'  about 
Thomas  Jefferson?' 

"Mike  an'  the  Lordsburg  freighter  insists 
vehement  that  thar's  been  no  alloosion  to  Jef 
ferson,  none  whatever. 

"'Parding!'  Sorehead  snorts;  'ag'in  I  asks 
parding!  As  former,  I  finds  I'm  barkin'  at  a 
bunch  of  leaves.  My  y'ear  deeceives  me  into 
thinkin'  that  you  two  fool  ground-owls  is  in- 
dulgin'  in  reecrim'nations  ag'inst  Thomas  Jef 
ferson.' 

"It's  the  third  time,  an'  Sorehead's  back, 
neck  bowed  an'  fingers  workin'. 


Red  Mike  253 


'  'Now  thar's  no  error !  Which  one  of  you 
cheap  prairie  dogs  makes  that  low-flung  state 
ment  about  old  Andy  Jackson?  Let  him 
speak  up,  an'  I'll  give  him  a  hundred  dollars 
before  devourin'  his  heart/ 

6  'No  one  mentions  Jackson/  says  Mike, 
who's  becomin'  frightened  an'  fretted;  Vhat- 
ever's  the  idee  of  any  one  talkin'  about  Jack 
son,  anyhow?' 

'  'Oh,  ho !  Perhaps,  my  bold  galoot,  you 
think  old  Andy  ain't  worth  talkin'  about !' 

"Sayin'  which,  that  sorehead  malcontent 
reaches  for  Mike,  an'  the  two  go  sailin'  'round 
the  room  permiscus.  Sorehead  picks  Mike  up, 
an'  sweeps  a  cord  or  two  of  glasswar'  off  the 
bar  with  him.  Then  he  employs  him  in  bring- 
in'  down  a  picture  from  the  wall.  After  which 
he  nacherally  tosses  him  hither  an'  yon  in  the 
most  irrel'vant  way. 

"Sorehead  has  jest  reached  up  with  Mike, 
an'  smashed  a  chandelier  carryin'  fourteen 
coal-oil  lamps,  when  in  t'ars  the  Lightnin'  Bug, 
white  an'  frothin'.  The  Bug  don't  waste  no 
time  lookin'  for  holds,  but  casyooally,  yet  no 
less  s'fficiently,  snags  onto  Sorehead.  Fixin' 
his  ten  claws  in  him,  the  Bug  fo'thwith  em- 


254        Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

barks  upon  sech  feats  in  the  way  of  ground 
an'  lofty  tumblin'  with  that  gladiator,  as  to 
make  what  happens  to  Mike  seem  pooerile. 

6  'Don't  you-all  know/  shouts  the  Bug,  as, 
havin'  done  broke  a  cha'r  with  Sorehead,  he 
proceeds  to  deevote  what's  left  of  him  to 
smashin'  a  table — 'don't  you-all  know,  you 
abandoned  profligate,  that  this  yere  artist 
you've  been  maltreatin'  is  a  pers'nal  friend  of 
mine,  yere  present  in  Red  Dog  to  confab  with 
me  on  important  affairs  ?  An'  is  it  for  a  house 
less  sot  like  you  to  take  to  minglin'  with  him 
malignant?  Yereafter  don't  you-all  so  much 
as  presoome  to  breathe  without  first  gettin'  my 
permission  so  to  do  in  writin' !' 

"As  closin'  the  incident  the  Bug  sends  Sore 
head  hurtlin'  through  a  window,  sash  an'  all. 
lAf ter  which  he  dusts  off  his  hands  an'  says : 

"  'Gents,  let's  licker.' 

"The  barkeep's  that  gratified  he  declar's  the 
idrinks  is  on  the  Tub. 

"  'Also,  the  glass  an'  sash,  Bug,'  he  adds. 

"Bein'  refreshed,  the  Bug  tenderly  collects 
Mike,  who's  in  a  frayed  an'  fragmentary  con 
dition,  an'  gently  freights  him  over  to  us  on  a 
buckboard.  It's  a  week  before  Peets  allows 


Red  Mike  255 


he's  ag'in  ready  for  the  show  ring,  an'  he  uses 
up  enough  co't  plaster  on  him  to  kyarpet  the 
Red  Light.  Little  Joolie?  We  let's  on  to  her 
that  Mike  meets  up  with  a  she  grizzly  an'  her 
cubs,  an'  while  he  cleans  up  that  fam'ly  he 
nacherally  gets  chewed. 

"  'Mike's  shorely  some  abrated,  ma'am,'  ex 
plains  Peets;  'but  he's  mendin'  fast.  When  I 
first  lays  eyes  on  him,  after  he  encounters  that 
bevy  of  b'ars,  it's  a  question  if  his  skin'll  hold 
his  principles.  But  don't  take  on,  Ma'am; 
now  I've  got  him  headed  right  he'll  be  as  good 
as  new  in  a  week.  Don't  forget,  too,  that  he 
shore  does  land  that  band  of  grizzlies  in  the 
scrap-heap.' 

"Mike  emerges  from  the  hands  of  Peets 
filled  with  a  pecooliar  furrin'  form  of  wrath, 
an'  talkin'  about  his  honor.  It's  Sorehead  he's 
after  now.  As  a  noble  Pole,  he  says,  he  has 
been  most  contoomeliously  used,  an*  insists 
upon  a  dooel.  Not  with  the  Bug,  who's  with 
drew  them  orig'nal  jedgments  concernin'  old 
Monte's  portrait,  an'  substitooted  tharfor  the 
view  that  said  picture's  bound  to  become  the 
artistic  pride  an'  joy  of  Arizona.  Mike  wants 
to  fight  the  onreegen'rate  Sorehead. 


256         Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

"In  the  flush  of  their  new  friendship  Mike 
asks  the  Bug  to  heel  an'  handle  him.  Also, 
it's  warmin'  to  your  better  nacher  to  note  the 
enthoosiasm  wharwith  the  Bug  takes  up  his 
dooties. 

"  'It'll  be  six-shooters  at  ten  paces,'  he  ex 
plains  to  Mike ;  'an'  if  you  only  shoots  like  you 
paints,  we'll  send  that  tramp  whar  the  wicked 
cease  from  troublin'  an'  the  weary  are  at  rest.' 

"The  Red  Dog  chief  gives  his  word  to  En- 
right  that  Mike  ain't  in  no  danger. 

"  'Comin'  down  to  cases,'  says  the  Red  Dog 
chief;  'it's  even  money  that  this  yere  Sorehead 
crawfishes.  If  he  don't  we've  got  it  all  set  up 
to  hand  him  the  Bug,  instead  of  that  Red  Mike 
artist  of  yours.  So  you  see  thar's  lit'rally 
nothin'  for  you-all  wolves  to  worry  over  at  all.' 

"  'We-all  wolves  ain't  in  the  habit  of  worry- 
in'  to  any  astoundin'  extent,'  returns  Enright, 
some  rigid;  'none  the  less,  I  allows  I'll  take  a 
look  through  the  sights  myse'f ,  merely  by  way 
of  makin'  shore  which  way  the  gun  is  p'inted. 
Thar's  reasons,  one  of  'em  a  lovin'  little  blind 
girl,  why  we're  not  so  plumb  partic'lar  about 
havin'  this  yere  alleged  artist  party  put  over 
the  jump.' 


Red  Mike  257 


"The  fight's  a  week  away,  an'  by  advice  of 
the  Bug,  Mike  decides  to  put  a  polish  on  his 
shootin'.  This  yere's  reckoned  a  bright  idee, 
the  more  since  as  near  as  we-all  can  jedge  Mike 
never  does  pull  a  trigger  once  since  when  his 
mother  rocks  his  cradle  an'  warms  his  milk. 

"  'Only,'  warns  Enright,  as  Mike  goes  mak- 
in*  prep 'rations,  'don't  you-all  go  aimin'  to 
wards  town  none.  We  don't  want  no  neeo- 
phytes  bombardin'  the  village,  which  y'ar  in  an' 
y'ar  out  sees  bullets  enough  in  the  nacheral 
onfoldment  of  eevents.' 

"Mike,  not  havin'  no  gun,  borrys  a  .45  of 
Moore.  Thus  equipped,  he  secoores  some 
cartridges  at  the  Noo  York  store,  an'  la'nches 
forth.  No  one  goes  with  him,  since  he  allows 
he'll  shoot  better  if  he's  by  himse'f . 

"Thar's  a  powder  house,  belongin'  to  the 
Copper  Queen  Mine,  about  a  mile  outside  of 
town.  It  stands  off  by  itse'f  an'  nothin'  near 
it,  no  one  honin'  much  to  live  neighbor  to  a  ton 
or  two  of  powder.  It's  about  fifth  drink  time 
the  mornin'  Mike  seelects  for  his  practice 
shootin'  when,  like  a  bolt  from  the  bloo,  that 
Copper  Queen  powder  house  goes  up  with  a 
most  emphatic  whang!  What  Peets  calls  the 


258         Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

'concussion'  breaks  windows  in  the  Wells- 
Fargo  office,  an'  shakes  up  the  Red  Light  to 
that  extent  it  brings  down  Monte's  picture  an' 
busts  it  to  forty  flinders  on  the  bottles. 

"  'Which  for  a  moment,'  says  Black  Jack, 
commentin'  on  the  gen'ral  mess  it  makes,  'I 
thinks  it's  one  of  Colonel  Sterett's  Coyote  edi 
torials  on  the  licker  question.' 

"That  powder  blowup  marks  the  onforchoo- 
nate  last  of  Mike.  Since  he  never  does  show 
up  no  more,  an'  a  Mexican  tendin'  goats  in 
the  vicin'ty  informs  us  he  sees  him  pinnin'  a 
target  on  the  r'ar  elevation  of  the  powder 
house  jest  prior  to  the  explosion,  it's  the  com 
mon  feelin'  that  the  blow-up's  caused  by  one 
of  Mike's  bullets,  an'  that  Mike  an'  the  pow 
der  reepos'tory  takes  flight  simooltaneous. 
Only,  as  already  set  fo'th,  Peets  claims  that 
Mike  knows  what's  comin'.  Mebby  Peets  is 
right,  an'  mebby  Mike  that  a-way  commits 
sooicide.  Whichever  it  is,  sooicide  or  accident, 
it's  a  mighty  complete  success;  for  the  only 
trace  we're  able  to  find  of  either  Mike  or  the 
powder  house  is  a  most  elab'rate  hole  in  the 
ground. 

"  'The  same  bein',  as  I  holds,  a  most  excel- 


Red  Mike  259 


lent  feachure,'  says  Boggs,  who  loathes 
foonerals.  'This  yere  powder  house  way  of 
cashin'  in  meets  with  my  approval.  It  shore 
don't  leave  no  reemains!'  " 


X 

HOW   TUTT   SHOT   TEXAS   THOMPSON 

"Which  they  starts  the  yarn  in  Red  Dog 
that  the  shootin'  that  time  between  Tutt  an' 
Texas  is  born  of  sectional  feelin',  an'  because 
Texas  is  a  southern  gent,  while  Tutt  comes 
from  the  No'th.  Sech  explanations  is  absurd 
• — as  Doc  Peets  well  says.  Also,  I'm  yere  to 
go  one  word  further  an'  state  that,  while  it's 
like  them  Red  Dogs,  idle  an'  mendacious  as 
they  freequent  be,  to  go  fosterin'  sech  fictions, 
thar  ain't  a  syllable  of  trooth  tharin  from  soda 
to  hock.  The  flareup  has  its  start  in  them  two 
children,  Annalinda  Thompson  an'  little  En- 
right  Peets,  an'  what  sentiments  of  rivalry 
nacherally  seizes  on  Tutt  an'  Texas  as  parent 
an'  uncle  reespective." 

"Still  there  must  have  been  some  degree  of 
sectional  feeling  among  you,"  I  said,  more  by 
way  of  stirring  my  old  cattleman  up  than  any 
nobler  purpose;  "coming  some  of  you  from  the 
South,  and  others  from  the  North,  it  would 

260 


How  Tutt  Shot  Texas  Thompson  261 
have  been  strange  indeed  had  it  been  other 


wise." 


"Which  it's  shore  strange,  then.  Them 
iWolfville  pards  of  mine  is  one  an'  all  United 
States  men.  They  ain't  Southern  men,  nor 
No'thern  men,  nor  Eastern  men,  nor  even 
.Western  men.  Likewise,  the  improodent  sport 
who'd  go  trackin'  'round,  ondertaikin'  to  desig 
nate  'em  as  sech,  would  get  toomultuous  ac 
tion,  plenty  soon  and  plenty  of  it. 

"Why,  take  Texas  himse'f :  Thar's  a  fly- 
by-night  party  pesterin'  'round  camp  for  a 
space,  who  lets  on  he's  from  the  same  neck  of 
woods  as  Texas.  This  yere  annoyin'  fraud  is 
a  heap  proud  of  it,  too,  an'  makes  a  speshulty 
of  bein'  caught  a  lot  in  Texas'  company.  He 
figgers  it  gives  him  a  standin'. 

"One  mornin',  when  only  a  few  of  us  is  per- 
vadin'  'round,  he  plants  himse'f  plumb  com 
fortable  an'  important  in  a  Red  Light  cha'r, 
an'  f ollowin'  the  'nitial  drink  for  the  day  goes 
to  talkin'  with  Texas. 

"As  he  sets  thar,  all  fav'rable  an'  free,  thar 
comes  trackin'  in  a  aged  Eastern  gent,  who's 
been  negotiatin'  with  Armstrong  about  busi 
ness  concernin'  the  Noo  York  store.  The  aged 


262         Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

Eastern  shorthorn  goes  rockin'  up  to  the 
counter,  an'  p'litely  lets  on  to  Black  Jack  that 
he'll  licker.  As  he  does  so  this  yere  firegilt 
party  who  boasts  he's  of  the  same  range  an' 
breed  as  Texas  speaks  up,  sharp  an'  coarse, 
like  the  bark  of  a  dog: 

"  'Yere,  you!  I  wants  a  word  or  two  with 
you-all !' 

"With  that  for  a  start  he  onfurls  what  he 
preetends  is  his  grievances,  the  same  bein'  be 
cause  of  somethin'  the  aged  Eastern  sport  does 
or  don't  do  comin'  over  on  Monte's  stage — 
which  they're  fellow  passengers  that  time,  it 
seems — an'  next  he  cuts  loose,  an'  goes  to 
vitooperatin'  an'  reecrim'natin',  an'  pilin'  in 
sult  on  epithet,  that  a-way,  to  beat  four  of  a 
kind.  Which  he  certainly  does  give  that  aged 
Eastern  person  a  layin'  out!  Shore;  he's  jest 
showin'  off  at  that,  an'  tryin'  to  impress 
Texas. 

"At  the  beginnin'  the  aged  Eastern  gent 
stands  like  he's  dazed,  onable  to  collect  him- 
se'f.  However,  he  gets  his  mental  feet  onder 
him,  an'  allowin'  he  won't  stay  none  to  listen 
to  sech  tirades,  tucks  away  his  nosepaint  an' 
pulls  out. 


How  Tutt  Shot  Texas  Thompson  263 

"After  he's  gone  the  vitooperative  party 
wheels  so's  to  face  Texas,  an'  says — mighty 
pleasant  an'  agree'ble,  like  the  object  of  the 
meetin's  been  most  happ'ly  accomplished: 

"  'Thar,  that  shows  you.' 

"  'Whatever  does  it  show?'  Texas  asks, 
some  grim. 

'Which  it  shows  the  difference  between  a 
No'thern  gent  an'  a  Southern  gent.  To  be 
shore,  that  old  cimmaron  ain't  half  my  size  an' 
is  twict  my  age,  but  all  the  same,  Texas,  if 
he's  from  the  South,  you  bet,  like  you  an'  me, 
he'd  tore  into  me,  win  or  lose,  if  he'd  got 
killed!' 

'You  think  so?'  says  Texas,  his  eyes  be- 
comin'  as  hard  an'  glitterin'  as  a  snake's. 
'Now  let  me  tell  you  something,  my  lion- 
hearted  friend.  Thar's  brave  men  South,  an' 
brave  men  No'th.  Also,  thar's  quitters;  quit 
ters  at  both  ends  of  that  No'thern-Southern 
trail  who'll  go  into  the  water  like  a  mink.  Ac- 
cordin'  to  my  experiences,  an'  I've  been  dally- 
in'  with  hoomanity  in  the  herd  for  quite  some 
time,  thar's  nothin'  in  that  geographical  bluff 
of  yours  at  all.  Moreover,  I  reckons  that  be 
fore  I'm  through,  seein'  now  you've  got  me 


264         Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

goin',  I'll  prove  it.  For  a  starter,  then, 
takin'  your  say-so  for  it,  you're  a  Southern 
man?' 

"  'Which  that's  shore  c'rrect,'  the  other  re 
sponds,  but  feeble;  'y°u  an'  me>  as  I  says  f°r" 
mer,  is  both  Southern  men.' 

'  fBueno!  Now  as  calk'lated  to  demonstrate 
how  plumb  onfounded  is  them  theeries  of 
yours' — yere  Texas  gets  up,  an'  kicks  his  cha'r 
back  so  he's  got  room — *I  has  pleasure  in  in- 
formin'  you  that  you're  a  onmitigated  hoss- 
thief ; — an'  you  don't  dare  stand  up.  Yes,  sir; 
you're  onfit  to  drink  with  a  nigger  or  eat  with 
a  dog; — an'  you'll  set  thar  an'  take  it.' 

"Which  that  aboosive  party,  pale  as  paper, 
certainly  does  'set  thar  an'  take  it'  preecisely 
as  Texas  prophecies;  an'  after  glowerin'  at 
him,  red-eyed  an'  f'rocious  for  a  moment, 
Texas  sticks  his  paws  in  his  jeans,  an'  sa'nters 
off. 

"It's  jest  as  well.  Why,  if  that  humbug  so 
much  as  curls  a  lip  or  crooks  a  finger,  after 
Texas  takes  to  enunciatin'  them  prop'sitions 
in  philosophy,  Texas'd  have  tacked  him  to  the 
table  with  his  bowie  an'  left  him  kickin',  same 
as  them  goggled-eyed  professors  who  calls 


How  Tutt  Shot  Texas  Thompson  265 

themselves  naeheralists  does  some  buzzin'  fly 
with  a  pin. 

"  'Which,  if  thar's  anything,'  Texas  explains 
to  Enright,  'that  makes  me  tired  particular,  it's 
them  cracks  about  No'th  an'  South.  If  I  was 
range  boss  for  these  yere  United  States  I'd 
shore  have  them  deescriptives  legislated  into 
a  cap'tal  offence.' 

"  'Sech  observations  as  that  narrow  tarrapin 
onbosoms,'  comments  Enright,  'only  goes  to 
show  how  shallow  he  is.  Comin'  down  to  the 
turn,  even  that  old  Eastern  shorthorn's  walk- 
in'  away  from  him  don't  necessar'ly  mean  a 
lack  of  sand.  Folks  does  a  heap  of  runnin'  in 
this  vale  of  tears,  but  upon  various  an'  varyin' 
argyooments.  A  gent  runs  from  a  polecat,  an' 
he  runs  from  a  b'ar;  but  the  reason  ain't  the 
same.' 

"Thar's  no  sectionalisms  in  Tutt's  differ 
ences  with  Texas,  none  whatever.  Also,  while 
it  finds,  as  I  holds,  its  roots  in  Annalinda  an' 
little  Enright  Peets,  it  don't  arise  from  nothin' 
which  them  babies  does  to  one  another.  Two 
pups  in  the  same  basket,  two  birds  on  the  same 
bough,  couldn't  have  got  along  more  harmon'- 
ous.  The  moment  Nell  brings  little  En- 


266         Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

right  Peets  over  to  see  Annalinda  them  chil 
dren  falls  together  like  a  shock  of  oats,  an'  at 
what  times  they're  onhobbled  of  fam'ly  ree- 
strictions  an'  footloose  so  to  do,  you'd  see  'em 
playin'  'round  from  sun-up  till  dark,  same  as 
a  pa'r  of  angels. 

"Troo,  Annalinda  does  domineer  over  little 
Enright  Peets,  an'  makes  him  fetch  an'  carry 
an'  wait  on  her;  an'  thar's  times,  too,  when 
she  shore  beats  him  up  with  a  stick  or  quirt 
some  lib'ral.  But  what  else  would  you  expect? 
I  even  encounters  little  Enright  Peets,  down 
on  all-fours,  an'  Annalinda  ridin'  him  like  he's 
a  hoss.  Likewise,  she's  kickin'  his  ribs  a  heap, 
to  make  him  go  faster.  But  that's  nothin'; 
them  two  babies  is  only  playin'. 

"Not  that  I'm  none  so  shore  it  ain't  this 
yere  last  identical  spectacle  which  gives  Nell 
the  notion  of  them  two  children  marryin'  at 
some  footure  day.  That,  however,  is  merest 
surmise,  an'  in  a  manner  onimportant.  What 
I'd  like  to  get  proned  into  you-all  is  that 
Texas  an'  Tutt  lockin'  horns  like  they  does  has 
its  single  cause  in  them  latent  jealousies  an' 
struggles  for  social  preecedence,  which  is 
bound  to  occur  between  a  only  father  an'  a 


How  Tutt  Shot  Texas  Thompson  267 

only  uncle  wharever  found.  Which  the  single 
safegyard  lies  in  sech  a  multitoode  of  fathers 
an'  uncles  as  renders  'em  common.  To  pos 
sess  but  one  of  each  makes  'em  puffed  up  an' 
pride-blown,  an'  engenders  a  mootual  uppish- 
ness  which  before  all  is  over  is  shore  to  man'- 
fest  itse'f  in  war. 

"Thar's  one  boast  we-all  is  able  to  make, 
however.  That  clash  between  Tutt  an'  Texas 
is  the  only  shore-enough  trouble  which  ever 
breaks  out  among  the  boys.  You  onderstands, 
of  course,  that  when  I  says  'boys'  that  a-way, 
I  alloodes  to  Enright  an'  Peets  an'  them  others 
who  constitootes  Wolfville's  social  an'  com 
mercial  backbone.  Thar's  other  embroglios 
more  or  less  smoky  an'  permiscus,  which  gets 
pulled  off  one  way  an'  another,  but  they  ain't 
held  to  apply  to  us  of  rights.  For  sech  alien 
hookups,  so  to  speak,  we  reefooses  all  reespon- 
s'bility.  Which  we  regyards  them  escapades 
as  fortooitous,  an'  declines  'em  utter.  Tutt's 
goin'  against  Texas  is  the  only  war- jig  we 
feels  to  be  reely  Wolfville's." 

"You  forget,"  I  said  teasingly,  "the  shoot 
ing  between  Boggs  and  Tutt,  as  incident  to  the 
Washerwoman's  War." 


268        Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

"Which,  that?"  There  was  impatience 
tinged  with  acrimony  in  the  tones.  "That's 
nothin'  more'n  gallantry.  It's  what's  to  be 
looked  for  whar  thar's  ladies  about,  an'  is  doo 
to  a  over-effervescence  of  sperit,  common  to 
the  younger  males  of  our  species  when  made 
gala  an'  giddy  by  the  alloorin'  flutter  of  a  pet 
ticoat.  Boggs  an'  Tutt  don't  honestly  mean 
them  bullets  none.  Also,  if  you-all  is  goin'  to 
keep  on  with  your  imbecile  interruptions,  I'll 
quit." 

Abject  apologies  on  my  part,  supported  by 
equally  abject  promises  of  reform. 

The  old  gentleman,  thus  mollified,  resumed: 

"Goin'  back  to  this  yere  Tutt-Texas  col 
lision,  thar's  no  denyin',  an'  be  fa'r  about  it, 
but  what  Tutt  has  grounds.  For  goin'  on  five 
years  he's  been  looked  up  to  as  the  only  father 
in  camp,  an'  for  Texas  to  appear  at  what  you- 
all  might  call  the  'leventh  hour  an'  go  crowdin' 
disdainfully  into  the  picture  on  nothin'  more'n 
bein'  a  uncle,  is  preepost'rous.  To  prance 
'round  on  sech  a  meager  showin',  puttin'  on 
the  dog  he  does,  an'  all  in  a  somber,  overbear- 
in'  way  like  he's  packin'  the  world  on  his 
shoulders  an'  we-all's  got  to  be  a  heap  careful 


How  Tutt  Shot  Texas  Thompson  269 

not  to  do  nothin'  to  him  to  make  him  drop  it, 
is  inexcoosable  to  the  verge  of  outrage.  No 
rel'tive  in  the  third  or  fo'th  degree  is  jestified 
to  assoome  sech  sooperiorities ;  an'  Enright  tells 
Texas  so  after  Peets  digs  the  lead  out  of  the 
thick  of  his  laig. 

"Which  we  gets  orig'nal  notice  about  An- 
nalinda,  when  a  passel  of  us,  as  is  our  custom 
followin'  first  drink  time  in  the  evenin',  drifts 
into  the  post  office.  Some  gets  letters,  some 
don't ;  an'  Texas,  who,  as  a  roole,  don't  have  no 
voloominous  correspondence,  is  sayin'  that  he 
has  the  same  feelin'  about  letters  he  has  about 
trant'lers,  as  bein'  a  heap  more  likely  to  sting 
you  than  anything  else,  when  the  postmaster 
shoves  him  out  one. 

"It's  from  Laredo,  an'  when  Texas  gets  a 
glimpse  at  the  mark  on  it  he  lets  it  fall  on- 
opened  to  the  floor. 

'  'It's  my  former  wife !'  he  says,  with  a  shud 
der.  'Yere  she  is,  startin'  in  to  get  the  upper 
hand  of  me  ag'in.' 

'  'Nonsense !'  says  Peets,  pickin'  up  the  let 
ter,  'it's  from  some  lawyers.  Can't  you  see 
their  names  yere  up  in  the  corner?' 

'That  don't  mean  nothin','  Texas  whispers 


270         Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

— he's  shore  a  heap  shook;  'it'd  be  about  her 
speed,  as  she  goes  plottin'  afresh  to  ondermine 
me  in  my  present  peace,  to  rope  up  a  law-wolf 
to  show  her  how.' 

"Bein'  urged  by  Peets,  an'  the  balance  of  us 
asshorin'  him  we'll  stand  pat  in  his  destinies 
come  what  may  an'  defend  him  to  the  bitter 
finish,  Texas  manages  to  open  the  envelope. 
As  he  stands  thar  readin'  the  scare  in  his  face 
begins  to  fade  in  favor  of  a  look  of  gloom. 

"  'Gents,'  he  says,  at  last,  'it's  my  brother 
Ed.  He's  cashed  in.'  We  expresses  the  reg'- 
lation  reegrets,  an'  Texas  continyoos:  'Ed 
leaves  me  his  baby  girl,  Annalinda — she's  my 
niece.'  After  a  pause  he  adds:  'This  yere 
shore  requires^  consideration.' 

"  'These  law  sharps,'  explains  Texas,  when 
we're  organized  all  sociable  in  the  Red  Light, 
an'  Black  Jack's  come  through  on  right  an' 
reg'lar  lines,  'allows  it's  Ed's  dyin'  reequest 
that  I  take  an'  ride  paternal  herd  on  this  in 
fant  child.' 

"  'But  how  about  its  mother?'  urges  En- 
right. 

"  'Which  it  ain't  got  none.  Its  mother  dies 
two  years  ago.  Now  Ed's  packed  in,  that 


How  Tutt  Shot  Texas  Thompson  271 

baby's  been  whipsawed;  it's  a  full-fledged  or 
phan,  goin'  an'  cominV 

*  'Ain't  thar  no  rel'tives  on  the  mother's 
side?'  asks  Nell,  from  over  back  of  Cherokee's 
lay  -out. 

'  'Meanest  folks,  Nellie,'  says  Texas,  'bar 
none,  between  the  Colorado  an'  the  Missis 
sippi.  You  see  they're  kin  to  my  Laredo  wife, 
me  an'  Ed  both  marryin'  into  the  same  tribe. 
Which  it  shows  the  Thompson  intell'gence. 
Thar  ain't  a  Thompson  yet  who  don't  need  a 
guardeen  constant.' 

"After  no  end  of  discussion  that  a-way  it's 
onderstood  to  be  the  gen'ral  notion  that  Texas 
ought  to  bring  Ed's  orphan  baby  to  Wolf- 
ville. 

"  'But  s'ppose,'  says  Texas,  'that  in  spite  of 
Ed  wantin'  me  to  cast  my  protectin'  pinions 
over  this  yere  infant,  its  mother's  outfit,  think- 
in'  mebby  to  shake  me  down  for  some  dinero, 
objects?' 

'  'In  which  case,'  says  Boggs,  who's  plumb 
interested,  'you  sends  for  me,  Texas,  an'  we 
mavericks  it.  You  ain't  goin'  to  let  no  sech 
callous  an'  onfeelin'  gang  as  your  wife's  folks 
go  'round  dictatin'  about  Ed's  Annalinda  child, 


272         Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

be  you,  an'  givin'  you  a  standoff?  Which 
you're  only  tryin'  to  execoote  Ed's  dying  be 
hests.' 

"It's  settled  final  that  Texas,  ag'inst  what 
ever  opp'sition,  has  got  to  bring  on  Annalinda 
to  us.  That  disposed  of,  it  next  comes  nacher- 
ally  up  as  a  question  how,  when  we  gets  Anna 
linda  safe  to  Wolfville,  she's  goin'  to  be  took 
care  of. 

"  'Which  the  O.  K.  Restauraw  won't  do,' 
Texas  says,  lookin'  anxious  out  of  the  tail  of 
his  eye  at  Enright  an'  Peets.  'Mind,  I  ain't 
hintin'  nothin'  ag'inst  Missis  Rucker,  who 
hasn't  got  her  Southwest  equal  at  flapjacks, 
but  I  submits  that  for  a  plastic  child  that 
a-way,  at  a  time  when  it  receives  impressions 
easy,  to  daily  witness  the  way  she  maltreats 
Rucker,  is  to  go  givin'  that  infant  wrong  idees 
of  what's  coming  to  husbands  as  a  whole.  I'm 
a  hard  man,  gents ;  but  I  don't  aim  to  bring  up 
this  yere  Annalinda  baby  so  that  one  day  she's 
encouraged  to  go  handin'  out  the  racket  to 
some  onforchoonate  sport,  which  my  Laredo 
wife  hands  me.' 

"  'Thar's  reasons  other  than  Missis  Rucker,' 
Enright  is  quick  to  observe,  'why  the  O.  K. 


How  Tutt  Shot  Texas  Thompson  273 

House  ain't  the  fittest  place  for  infancy,  an' 
any  discussion  of  our  esteemable  hostess  in 
them  marital  attitoodes  of  hers  is  sooperfluous. 
S'ppose  we  lets  it  go,  without  elab 'ration,  that 
the  O.  K.  House,  from  nursery  standp'ints, 
won't  do.' 

"Cherokee  thinks  that  mighty  likely  a  good 
way'd  be  to  have  Annalinda  live  with  Tutt  an' 
Tucson  Jennie. 

"Peets  shakes  his  sagacious  head. 

"  'Dave'll  onderstand  my  p'sition  to  be 
purely  scientific,'  he  says,  glancin'  across  at 
Tutt,  'when  I  states  that  sech  a  move'd  be  a 
error.  Tucson  Jennie,  as  wife  an'  mother,  is 
as  fine  as  silk.  But  she's  also  a  female  woman, 
an'  owns  a  papoose  of  her  own.  Thar's  inborn 
reasons  why  woman,  as  sech,  while  sympathetic 
an'  gen'rally  speakin'  plumb  lovely,  is  onca- 
pable  onder  certain  circumstances  of  a  squar' 
deal.  In  this  yere  business  of  babies,  for  ex 
ample,  thar's  existed  throughout  the  ages  a 
onbridgable  gulf  in  her  eyes  between  her  off 
spring  an'  other  folks'  offspring;  an'  while  dis 
claiming  all  disloyalty  to  Tucson  Jennie,  I'm 
obleeged  to  say  that  as  between  Annalinda  an' 
little  Enright  Peets,  she  wouldn't  be  cap'ble 


274         Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

of  a  even  break.  Do  I  overstate  the  trooth, 
Dave?' 

"  'None  whatever,'  Tutt  returns.  "What 
you  discovers  scientific,  Doc,  I  learns  more 
painfully  as  husband  an'  father.  I  fully  agrees 
that  when  it  comes  to  other  folks'  children  no 
female  mother  can  hold  the  onbiased  scales.' 

"  'Thar's  French  an'  his  wife?'  chirps  Nell, 
her  elbow  on  the  layout,  an'  her  little  round 
chin  in  her  fist;  'thar's  the  Frenches,  over  to 
the  corrals?  French  an'  Benson  Annie  ain't 
got  no  children,  an'  they'd  be  pleased  to  death 
at  havin'  Annalinda.' 

"  'But  be  they  competent?'  asks  Texas,  over 
whom  a  f eelin'  of  se'f-importance  is  already  be- 
ginnin'  to  creep  like  ivy  on  a  wall.  'I  don't 
want  to  be  considered  a  carper,  but  as  I  sees 
it  I'd  be  doin'  less'n  my  dooty  as  a  uncle  if  I 
fails  to  ask,  Be  them  Frenches  competent?' 

"  'You'll  have  to  rope  up  a  nurse  some'ers, 
anyhow,  Texas,'  Boggs  puts  in.  'Thar's  doz 
ens  of  them  good-nachered  fat  young  senoritas 
among  the  Mexicans  who'll  do.  The  nurse 
would  know  her  business,  even  if  the  Frenches 
don't.' 

"'Two    nurses,'    declar's    Tutt.      'Bein'    a 


How  Tutt  Shot  Texas  Thompson  275 

father,  I  savvys  the  nurse  game  from  start  to 
finish.  Yon'll  need  two;  one  to  hold  it,  an' 
one  to  fetch  it  things.' 

"  'But  about  them  Frenches?'  inquires  Jack 
Moore.  'Ain't  we  goin'  a  little  fast?  Mebby 
they  themselves  has  objections.' 

"  'Which  they'd  look  mighty  well,'  observes 
Cherokee,  riflin'  the  deck  an'  snappin'  it  into 
the  box  plenty  vicious,  'to  go  'round  objectin' 
after  Nellie  yere's  done  put  'em  in  nom'nation 
for  this  trust.' 

"  'Not  that  they'd  reeject  it  haughty,'  ex 
plains  Moore;  'but,  as  Texas  himse'f  says, 
who's  to  know,  they  bein'  mighty  modest  peo 
ple,  that  they'll  regyard  themselves  as  comp'- 
tent?  The  Frenches  ain't  had  no  practice,  an' 
thar's  nothin'  easier  than  a  misdeal  about  a 
youngone.  Thar's  a  brainless  mother  saws 
her  baby  off  on  me  over  in  Prescott  one  day, 
while  she  goes  cavortin'  into  a  store  to  buy  a 
frock,  an'  you-all  can  go  put  a  bet  on  it  I'm 
raisin'  the  he'pless  long  yell  inside  of  the  first 
minute.  This  takin'  charge  of  babies  ain't  no 
sech  pushover  as  it  looks.  It's  certainly  no 
work  for  amatoors.' 

"  'Thar's   nothin'   in   them    doubts,    Jack,' 


276        Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

Boggs  chips  in  confidently.  'Even  if  them 
Frenches  ain't  had  no  practice,  an'  the  nurses 
should  fall  down,  thar's  dozens  of  us  who'll  be 
ever  at  the  elbow  of  that  household;  an'  if  in 
their  ignorance  they  takes  to  bunglin'  the  play 
we'll  be  down  on  'em  in  the  cockin'  of  a  Win 
chester  to  give  'em  the  proper  steer.' 

"  'I  reckon,  Nellie,'  says  Texas,  lookin'  wist 
ful  across  at  Nell,  'that  if  some  of  the  boys 
yere'll  stand  your  watch  as  lookout,  you'd 
put  in  a  day  layin'  in  a  outfit  of  duds?  You 
could  be  doin'  it,  you  know,  while  I'm  down  in 
Laredo,  treating  with  them  hostiles  for  pos 
session.' 

"  'Shore,'  an'  Nellie  smiles  at  the  prospect. 
'Which  I'll  jest  go  stampedin'  over  to  Tucson 
for  'em,  too.  How  old  is  Annalinda?' 

"Texas  gives  Annalinda's  age  as  three. 

'"She'll  be  four  next  fall,'  says  he;  'I  re 
members  Ed  writes  me  she's  born  durin'  the 
beef  roundup.' 

"  'In  that  case,'  comments  Enright,  'she 
ought  to  stand  about  eight  hands  high.  In 
clawin'  together  said  raiment,  Nellie,  that'll 
give  you  some  impression  of  size.' 

"  'An',  Nellie,'  continyoos  Texas,  'my  idee 


How  Tutt  Shot  Texas  Thompson  277 

is  you'll  want  to  change  in  say  a  thousand  dol 
lars?' 

"  'Why,  Texas,  you  talk  like  you're  locoed. 
One  hundred'll  win  out  all  the  clothes  she  could 
sp'ile,  w'ar  or  far  to  pieces  in  a  year.' 

"  'Shore,'  coincides  Tutt;  'take  little  Enright 
Peets.  One  hundred  pesos  leaves  him  lookin' 
like  a  circus.' 

"  'But  Annalinda,'  objects  Texas  doubt 
fully,  'is  a  She.  It  costs  more  for  girls.  That 
Laredo  wife  of  mine'd  blow  in  the  price  of 
sixty  head  of  cattle,  an'  then  allow  she  ain't 
half  dressed.' 

"  'One  hundred'll  turn  the  trick,'  Nell  in 
sists. 

"All  that  night  we  sets  up  discussin'  an'  con- 
siderin'.  The  more  we  talks  the  better  we  likes 
that  Annalinda  idee. 

"At  sun-up,  b'arin'  the  best  wishes  of  all, 
Texas  cinches  a  hull  into  his  quickest  pony,  an' 
hits  the  trail  for  Tucson  to  take  the  railroad 
kyars  for  Laredo. 

'Which,  onless  they  gives  me  more  of  a 
battle  than  I  anticipates,'  he  remarks,  as  he 
pushes  his  feet  into  the  stirrup,  'I'll  be  back 
by  ten  days.' 


278         Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

"  'An',  Texas,'  says  Boggs,  detainin'  him  by 
the  bridle  rein,  'you-all  beat  it  into  that  baby 
that  I'm  her  Uncle  Dan.  It'll  give  you  some 
thing  to  do  comin'  back.' 

"  'Which,  jedgin'  from  what  I  goes  through 
that  day  in  Prescott,'  remarks  Moore,  mighty 
cynical,  'Texas'll  have  plenty  to  do.' 

"Texas  don't  meet  up  with  no  partic'lar 
Laredo  opposition,  them  relatives  appearin' 
almost  eager  to  give  him  Annalinda.  One  of 
'em  even  goes  the  insultin'  len'th  of  offerin'  to 
split  the  expense,  but  withdraws  his  bluff  when 
Texas  threatens  to  brain  him  with  a  six- 
shooter. 

"Boggs,  hearin'  of  this  Laredo  willin'ness, 
can't  onderstand  it  no  how. 

"  'It's  too  many  for  me,'  he  says.  'If  it's 
me,  now,  I'd  have  clung  to  that  blessed  baby 
till  the  cows  come  home.  They  must  shore  be 
deeficient  in  taste,  them  Laredo  yahoos !' 

"As  exhibitin'  how  soon  bein'  moved  into 
cel'bration  as  a  uncle  begins  to  tell  on  Texas 
he  ups  an'  in  the  fullness  of  his  vanity  dee- 
cides,  even  before  he  arrives  at  Laredo,  ag'inst 
the  scheme  which  the  camp's  half  laid  out 
about  the  Frenches  an'  Annalinda,  an'  ar- 


How  Tutt  Shot  Texas  Thompson  279 

ranges  to  have  a  'doby  of  his  own.  It's  a  blow 
to  the  Frenches,  too,  for  since  we  notifies  'em, 
they  has  set  their  hearts  on  the  racket. 

"But  Texas  is  immov'ble. 

"  'Ed's  dyin','  says  he,  'an'  namin'  me  to  be 
reespons'ble  for  Annalinda,  creates  a  sityooa- 
tion  best  met  by  me  havin'  a  wickeyup  of  my 
own.  I'm  sorry  to  disapp'int,  but  after  ma- 
toore  reeflection,  that  a- way,  I've  conclooded 
to  play  a  lone  hand.' 

"While  he's  away  Texas  goes  projectin' 
'round  an'  cuts  out  a  couple  of  old  black 
mammies  from  a  day  nursery  over  in  Dallas, 
an'  brings  'em  along.  They  an'  Annalinda 
rides  over  from  Tucson  in  the  stage ;  but,  bein' 
more  familiar  with  the  saddle,  an'  because  he's 
better  able  tharfrom  to  soopervise  an'  go  dic- 
tatin'  terms  to  Monte,  he  himse'f  comes  on  his 
pony. 

'  'An',  gents,'  whines  Monte,  as,  throw- 
in'  down  the  reins,  he  heads  for  the  Red  Light 
bar,  'between  us  he  ain't  the  same  Texas.  That 
Annalinda  child  has  shore  changed  him  tur- 
rible.  All  the  way  from  Tucson,  when  he  ain't 
crowdin'  up  to  the  wheel  to  give  orders  to 
them  Senegambians  about  how  to  hold  or 


280        Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

when  to  feed  her,  he's  menacin'  at  me.  That's 
why  I'm  three  hours  late.  At  rough  places  it 
looks  like  thar  ain't  no  name  mean  enough  for 
him  to  call  me ;  an'  once,  when  the  front  wheel 
jolts  into  a  chuckhole  an'  Annalinda  sets  up  a 
squall,  he  pulls  a  gun  an'  threatens  in  the  most 
frenzied  way  to  shoot  me  up.  "You  be  more 
careful,"  he  roars,  "or  I'll  blow  you  plumb  off 
your  perch !  Childhood,  that  a-way,  is  a  fragile 
flower;  an'  if  you  figgers  I'll  set  yere  an',  in 
the  tender  instance  of  my  own  pers'nal  niece, 
see  some  booze-besotted  drunkard  break  that 
flower  short  off  at  the  stalk,  I'll  fool  you  up 
a  whole  lot."  An'  do  you-all  know,'  Monte 
concloodes,  almost  with  a  sob,  'he  never  does 
let  down  the  hammer  of  his  .45  ag'in  for  most 
a  mile.' 

"Annalinda  is  plumb  pretty.  The  whole 
camp  goes  her  way  like  a  landslide.  Tucson 
Jennie  approves  of  her — with  reeservations, 
of  course,  in  favor  of  little  Enright  Peets; 
Missis  Rucker  finds  time  to  snatch  a  few  mo 
ments,  between  feedin'  us  an'  bossin'  Rucker, 
to  go  see  her  every  day;  while,  as  for  Nell, 
she's  in  an'  out  of  Texas'  'doby  mornin',  noon 
an'  night  to  sech  extents  that  half  the  time 


"HIM  AN*  ANNALINDA  SHORE  DO  CONSTITOOTE  A  PICTURE.      'THAR'8  A  PA*R  TO  DRAW 
TO,'    BAYS   NELL   TO   TEXAS,    HER    EVES    LIKE    BROWN    DIAMONDS."          p.    281. 


How  Tutt  Shot  Texas  Thompson  281 

Cherokee  ain't  got  no  lookout,  an'  when  he 
has  it's  Boggs. 

"Nell  brings  over  little  Enright  Peets,  an' 
thar's  no  backin'  away  from  it  him  an'  Anna- 
linda  shore  do  constitoote  a  picture. 

"  'Thar's  a  pa'r  to  draw  to!'  says  Nell  to 
Texas,  her  eyes  like  diamonds. 

"Bein'  romantic,  like  all  girls,  an'  full  of 
fancies  that  a-way,  Nell  indulges  in  playful 
specyoolations  about  Annalinda  an'  little  En- 
right  Peets  gettin'  married  later  on.  Not  that 
she  intends  anything,  although  Texas  takes  it 
plenty  serious,  which  shows  how  his  egotism  is 
already  workin'  overtime. 

"When  Monte  puts  up  them  groans  about 
how  Texas  is  changed,  we-all  lays  it  to 
the  complainin'  habit  which,  on  account  of 
whiskey  mebby,  has  got  to  be  second  nacher 
with  him.  He's  always  kickin'  about  some 
thing;  an'  so,  nacherally,  when  he  onbosoms 
himse'f  of  that  howl  about  Texas,  we  don't  pay 
no  speshul  heed.  It  ain't  three  days,  however, 
before  it  begins  to  break  on  us  that  for 
once  Monte's  right.  Texas  has  certainly 
changed.  Thar's  a  sooperior  manner,  what 
you'd  call  a  loftiness,  about  him,  which  is  hard 


282         Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

to  onderstand  an'  harder  to  put  up  with.  It 
gets  to  be  his  habit  constant  to  reemark  in  a 
wearied  way,  as  he  slops  out  his  drinks,  that 
we-airil  have  to  excoose  him  talkin'  to  us 
much,  because  he's  got  cares  on  his  mind,  be 
sides  bein'  played  out  on  account  of  settin'  up 
all  night  with  Annalinda. 

"  'Which  she's  sheddin'  her  milk  teeth,'  he'd 
say,  'an'  it  makes  her  petyoolant.' 

"After  which  he'd  turn  away  in  dignified 
tol'ration,  same  as  if  we're  too  low  an'  dull  to 
a'preeciate  what  he  has  to  b'ar. 

"Or,  ag'in — an'  always  before  the  draw — 
he'd  throw  down  his  hand  in  a  poker  game,  an' 
scramble  to  his  feet,  sayin' : 

"  'Heavens !  I  forgets  about  that  Annalinda 
child!' 

"An'  with  that  he'd  go  skallyhootin'  off  into 
space,  leavin'  us  planted  thar  with  a  misdeal 
on  our  hands,  an'  each  one  of  us  holdin'  mebby 
better  than  aces-up,  an'  feelin'  shore  we  could 
have  filled.  It's  nothin'  less'n  awful  the  way 
he  acts ;  an'  that  we  lets  him  get  away  with  it 
exhibits  them  sentiments  of  Christian  charity 
which  permeates  our  breasts. 

"Thar's  the  way,  too,  he  goes  hectorin'  at 


How  Tutt  Shot  Texas  Thompson  283 

Boggs !  Two  occasions  in  partic'lar  I  reecalls ; 
an'  it's  only  Boggs'  forbearance  that  hostil'- 
ties  don't  ensoo.  One  time  when  Annalinda's 
out  for  a  walk  with  her  two  old  black  mam 
mies  Boggs  crosses  up  with  the  outfit  an'  kisses 
Annalinda.  Wharupon  Texas  yells  out  from 
across  the  street,  like  he's  been  bit  by  a  rattle 
snake  : 

"'Don't  do  that,  Dan!  You'll  mebby 
give  her  something.  In  Mother  Shrews 
bury's  "What  Ails  Babies  and  Why"  it's 
laid  down  emphatic  that  you  mustn't  kiss 


'em.' 


1  'But  you  kisses  her,'  retorts  Boggs. 

"  'Me?  But  I'm  her  uncle.  Besides,  I  only 
kisses  her  hands.  Which  I'll  permit  you-all  to 
kiss  her  hands,  Dan,  if  that'll  do  you.  Only 
don't  you  go  to  overplay  it  none.  Don't  for 
get  that  hands  is  the  limit,  an'  it's  thar  whar 
you  gets  off.' 

'Which  I  ain't  none  shore,'  says  Boggs, 
who's  some  hurt,  as  he's  talkin'  the  thing  over 
with  Enright  an'  Cherokee  in  the  Red  Light — 
'which  I  ain't  none  shore  but  Texas  is  right; 
only  he  oughtn't  to  throw  out  them  rooles  of 
health  of  his  so  plumb  offensive.  You'd  have 


284         Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

reckoned  from  the  row  he  makes  I'm  eatin' 
Annalinda.' 

"Another  time  Boggs  gives  Annalinda  his 
six-shooter  to  play  with,  she  havin'  deemanded 
it  with  screams.  Texas  comes  steamin'  up. 

'  'Dan,'  he  cries,  grabbin'  the  weepon  from 
Annalinda,  'sometimes  I  asks  myse'f  in  all  ser'- 
ousness  be  you  got  common  sense!  Is  this 
yere  a  snare  you're  settin'  for  this  innocent 
child?  Do  you-all  want  her  to  blow  her  head 
plumb  off?' 

"  'But,  Texas,'  Boggs  expostyoolates,  'thar 
ain't  a  chance.  How's  she  goin'  to  cock  that 
gun,  an'  the  mainspring  fifteen  pounds  resis 
tance  ?' 

"  'But  she  might  drop  it.' 

'Which,  if  she  does,  it  can't  go  off  none; 
I  sets  the  hammer  between  two  shells  on  pur 
pose.' 

"  ' Whoever 's  bringin'  up  this  yere  baby,  you 
or  me?'  Texas  deemands,  as  he  tosses  Boggs 
his  gun.  'Please  don't  pass  her  no  more  ar 
tillery.  If  it's  got  to  whar  her  existence  is  goin' 
to  be  a  failure  onless  she's  foolin'  with  a  gun,  I 
as  her  uncle  preefers  to  furnish  said  hardware 
myse'f.' 


How  Tutt  Shot  Texas  Thompson  285 

"Shore,  Boggs  stands  it,  it's  so  evident 
Texas  is  onhinged. 

"  'An'  if  you  look  at  it  straight  it  ain't  no 
wonder,  neither,'  says  Boggs,  who's  mighty 
forgivin'  that  a-way.  'It's  apples  to  ashes  if 
you  was  to  suddenly  up  an'  enrich  any  of 
us  with  a  niece  like  Annalinda,  we-all  in 
goin'  crazy  over  her  'd  give  Texas  kyards  an' 
spades.' 

"Texas,  who's  always  readin'  medicine 
books,  likes  to  go  bulgin'  'round  eloocidatin' 
about  measles  an'  scarlet  fever  an'  whoopin' 
cough,  an'  what  other  maladies  is  allers  layin' 
in  wait  to  bushwhack  infancy.  At  sech  mo 
ments  he's  plenty  speecious  an'  foxy,  so's  to 
trap  us  into  deebates  with  him.  Mebby  it'll 
be  about  the  mumps,  an'  what's  to  be  done ;  an' 
then,  after  he  gets  us  goin',  he'll  r'ar  back  the 
actchooal  image  of  insult  an'  floor  us  with 
'Mother  Shrewsbury.'  It  ain't  no  overstatin' 
a  sityooation  to  say  he  pursoos  these  yere  tac 
tics  ontil  he's  the  admitted  pest  of  the  camp, 
an'  thar  ain't  one  of  us  but  would  sooner  see  a 
passel  of  Apaches  comin'  than  him.  He  can't 
confab  two  minutes  about  Annalinda  but  he 
grows  so  insultin'  you  simply  has  to  hold  onto 


286         Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

your  manhood  by  the  scruff  of  the  neck  not 
to  go  for  him. 

"Even  Enright  ain't  exempt.  It  comes  out 
casyooally  one  evenin',  as  Texas  goes  layin' 
down  the  law  about  how  he's  r'arin'  Annalinda, 
that  Enright's  mother  was  wont  to  sooth  an' 
engage  his  infantile  hours  with  a  sugar-rag  an' 
a  string  of  spools.  Which  you  should  have 
shore  seen  Texas  look  at  him!  Not  with  ree- 
spect,  mind  you;  not  like  he's  heard  anything 
worth  while  or  interestin'.  But  like  he's  sayin' 
to  himse'f,  'An'  you  sets  thar  offerin'  yourse'f 
as  a  argyooment  in  favor  of  sugar-rags  an' 
strings  of  spools !  On  the  back  of  sech  a  warn- 
in'  you  don't  figger  none  I'll  go  givin'  sugar- 
rags  an'  strings  of  spools  to  Annalinda,  do 
you?'  While  he's  thinkin'  this  he  grins  that 
patronizin'  it'd  set  your  teeth  on  edge. 

"Texas  in  a  simple  sperit  of  vain-glory'd 
take  advantage  of  Tutt  bein'  a  father  that 
a-way  to  back  him  into  a  corner;  an'  then, 
ignorin'  the  rest  of  us  as  belongin'  to  the  bar- 
b'rous  herd,  he'd  insist  on  discussin'  skunk  oil 
as  a  remedy  for  croup.  An'  the  worst  of  it  is 
he  finally  has  Tutt,  who's  bad  enough  before, 
gyratin'  'round,  his  addled  nose  to  the  sky  in 


How  Tutt  Shot  Texas  Thompson  287 

redoubled  scorn  of  childless  men.  From  the 
two  sociablest  sports  in  camp  it  gets  so  that 
the  uncle  in  one  an'  father  in  the  other  so  far 
supplants  an'  shoves  aside  the  mere  man  in 
'em  that  Job  himse'f  would  have  had  to  make 
a  new  record  for  meekness  an'  long  sufferin'  to 
get  along  with  'em.  Which  we-all  suffers 
from  both  to  that  extent  that  when  they  does 
start  to  bombardin'  each  other  the  eepisode  in 
some  of  its  angles  appeals  to  us  as  a  welcome 
relief. 

"Even  Peets  goes  after  Texas.  It  don't  do 
no  good.  He's  become  that  opinionated  he 
ain't  got  no  more  reespect  for  Peets  than  for 
Monte.  Texas  mentions  that  Annalinda's  got 
a  ache  some'ers,  an'  asks  Peets  what's  his  idee. 

"  'Thar's  nothin'  onder  the  firmament, 
Texas,  the  matter  with  that  baby,'  says  Peets, 
'but  you.  Which  if  you'd  ever  got  to  him  as  a 
yearlin'  you'd  a-killed  Hercules  himse'f!  Quit 
yore  fussin',  an'  give  Annalinda  a  chance. 
Take  a  lesson  from  the  cub  coyote.  Roll 
Annalinda  out  in  the  sand,  an'  let  her  scuffle. 
That's  the  way  to  bring  a  youngone  up.' 

'  'Mother  Shrewsbury  don't  agree  with 
you,'  says  Texas.  'Also,  thar's  nothin'  in  them 


288         Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

cub  coyote  claims  of  yours  for  r'arin'  chil 
dren.' 

*  'Mother  Shrewsbury,'  retorts  Peets,  'is 
nothin'  but  a  patent  med'cine  outfit,  which 
feeds  an'  fattens  on  sech  boneheads  as  you.' 

'  'Excoose  me,  but  scattered  throughout 
that  invalyooable  work  is  the  endorsements  of 
doctors  of  divinity.' 

"  'Shore!  Half  the  time  a  gold  brick  comes 
to  you  wrapped  in  a  tract.  All  the  same, 
Texas,  the  way  you're  carryin'  on  about  Anna- 
linda  is  fast  bringin'  your  sanity  into  doubt.' 

"Texas  snorts  his  scorn  at  this,  an'  goes  back 
to  'Mother  Shrewsbury.' 

"As  I've  already  s'ggested,  however,  thar's 
a  bitter  drop  in  Texas'  cup,  an'  Tutt's  the 
drop.  As  a  ondeniable  father,  Tutt  can  put  it 
all  over  Texas  or  any  other  mere  uncle  when 
ever  he  feels  like  it,  an'  deep  down  in  his  heart 
Texas  knows  it.  He  struggles  to  hide  the  feel- 
in',  but  any  one  can  tell  that  the  very  sight  of 
Tutt  is  wormwood  to  him. 

"Likewise,  Tutt  fully  ree'lizes  his  sooperi- 
ority,  an'  in  no  wise  conceals  the  same.  It 
comes  as  easy  to  Tutt  as  suckin'  aiggs,  he  hav- 
in'  had  plenty  of  practice.  Ever  since  little 


How  Tutt  Shot  Texas  Thompson  289 

J^Jnright  Peets  is  born  Tutt  has  conducted  him- 
fe*f  in  a  downhill  manner  towards  all  of  us, 
a"n'  been  allowed  to  do  so;  as  why  not?  This 
manner  has  become  so  much  a  part  of  Tutt 
that  even  after  Texas  inherits  Annalinda  an' 
sets  up  house  for  himse'f,  while  it  makes  the 
rest  of  us  look  up  to  him  some,  it  don't  he'p 
him  none  with  Tutt.  Tutt's  too  thoroughly 
aware  of  the  difference  between  bein'  a  father 
an'  bein'  a  uncle.  Likewise,  he  lets  Texas  see 
it  at  every  twist  in  the  trail. 

"That  time  Nell  takes  to  pa'rin'  off 
little  Enright  Peets  an'  Annalinda,  an'  in  a 
sperit  of  lightness  speaks  of  how  mebby  some 
day  they'll  wed,  she  springs  the  notion  on 
Texas,  as  stated,  an'  asks  him  what  he  thinks. 
Texas,  who  always  has  to  have  time  to  make  up 
his  mind  about  anything  with  Annalinda  in  it, 
is  enable  to  say,  first  dash  out  of  the  box, 
whether  he  feels  tickled  or  sore.  He  grows 
plenty  solemn,  as  I  mentions,  grunts  mighty 
elevated  an'  austere,  an'  mumbles  about  some 
things  bein'  a  long  shot  an'  a  limb  in  the  way, 
an'  the  wisdom  of  not  crossin'  a  bridge  till  you 
gets  to  it. 

"Ten  minutes  later,  while  he's  still  got  An- 


290        Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

nalinda  an'  little  Enright  Peets  on  the  skyline 
of  his  regyard,  Texas  comes  upon  Tutt,  who's 
talkin'  pol'tics  to  Armstrong.  Armstrong 
has  tossed  off  a  few  weak-minded  opinions 
about  a  deef ensive  an'  offensive  deal  with  Rus 
sia,  an'  Tutt's  ag'in  it  as  solid  as  a  sod  house. 

"'Yes,  sir,'  Tutt's  saying;  'I'm  ag'in  any 
sech  low  alliance.  I'd  be  ashamed  to  call  my- 
se'f  a  white  man  an'  consent  to  sech  open-eyed 
disgrace.' 

"Texas  turns  white.  It's  among  his  deefects 
that  he  can't  escape  the  feelin'  that  the  whole 
world  is  always  thinkin'  an'  talkin'  about  what 
ever  he  himse'f  is  thinkin'  an'  talkin'  about. 
Overhearin'  what  Tutt  says,  he  concloodes  that 
Tutt's  declarin'  his  sent'ments  as  to  little  En- 
right  Peets  marryin'  Annalinda,  an'  is  out  to 
reeject  all  sech  alliances  as  a  disgrace  to  the 
Tutts.  An'  Texas  foomes.  To  be  eat  up  by 
Tutt's  sooperior  station  as  a  shore  father  is 
bad  enough !  An'  now  yere's  Tutt,  aggravatin' 
injury  with  insult!  Which  it's  too  much! 

"  'Draw  your  weepon,  Dave,5  calls  out 
Texas,  bringin'  his  own  gun  to  the  front. 
'Your  bein'  a  father  don't  overawe  me  none, 
you  bet!  Likewise,  if  you're  a  Tutt  I'm  a 


How  Tutt  Shot  Texas  Thompson  291 

Thompson,  an'  I've  stood  about  all  I'm  going 
to.' 

"Tutt,  as  a  old  experienced  gun-player,  sees 
at  a  glance  that  he  ain't  got  no  time  to  throw 
out  skirmishers.  For  reasons  onknown,  but 
s'fficient,  thar's  Texas  manooverin'  to  plug 
him.  Wharupon,  Tutt  takes  steps  accordin', 
an'  takes  'em  some  abrupt.  So  abrupt,  in 
trooth,  that  Texas  ain't  got  through  oratin' 
before  his  nigh  hind  laig  has  stopped  a  bullet 
midway  above  the  knee.  Shore,  he  gets  a  shot 
at  Tutt,  but  it  goes  skutterin'  along  in  the 
sand  a  full  foot  to  one  side.  Thar's  only  them 
two  shots,  Enright,  Armstrong  an'  Jack 
Moore  gettin'  in  between  'em,  an'  nippin'  any 
further  trouble  in  the  bud. 

"It's  two  hours  later,  an'  Enright  has  come 
'round  to  beat  some  sense  into  Texas. 

"  'Accordin'  to  the  Doc  yere,'  says  Enright, 
as  Peets  ladles  the  invalid  out  a  hooker  of  Old 
Jordan,  'that  laig'll  be  so  you  can  ride  ag'in 
in  a  month.  Pendin'  which,  while  I  don't  pree- 
tend  to  savvy  what's  been  goin'  on  between 
you  an'  Dave,  nor  what  insults  has  been  give 
or  took,  I  no  less  tells  you,  Texas,  that  you're 
wrong.' 


292         Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

"  'As  how?'  growls  Texas,  gulpin'  down  the 
nosepaint. 

"  'As  to  them  airs  which  of  late  you  dons. 
You  know  you  can't  defend  'em  none.  Dave's 
been  the  sole  onchallenged  father  in  this  yere 
outfit  for  crowdin'  nigh  five  years ;  an'  for  you 
to  come  swaggerin'  up,  insistin'  that  he  divide 
the  pot  with  you  an'  you  holdin'  nothin'  higher 
than  a  niece,  nacherally  exasperates  him  be 
yond  endoorance.  Which  you'd  feel  the  same 
yourse'f  in  Dave's  place.' 

'  'But  you  don't  onderstand,  Sam.  It's  him 
connivin'  round  an'  archin'  his  neck  ag'inst 
them  babies  marryin'  each  other  when  they're 
growed  up — it's  that  which  sets  my  blood  to 
b'ilin'.  Wharever  does  Dave  come  in  to  get 
insultin'  action  at  sech  a  prop'sition?  It'll  be 
a  cold  day  when  a  Thompson  ain't  equal  to  a 
Tutt,  an'  I'll  make  that  good  while  I  can  pull 
an'  p'int  a  .45.' 

"  'Which  Dave,'  inter jecks  Peets,  as  he  goes 
cockin'  up  Texas'  foot  on  a  gooseha'r  pillow, 
so's  the  shot  laig'll  feel  it  less — 'which  Dave 
thinks  right  now,  an'  so  informs  me  personal, 
that  you-all  starts  to  mussin'  with  him  on  ac 
count  of  pol'tics,  an'  him  havin'  been  a  reepub- 


How  Tutt  Shot  Texas  Thompson  293 

lican  back  East.  Armstrong  b'ars  him  out, 
too.' 

"  Tol'tics?'  gasps  Texas,  full  of  wonder. 
*  Whatever  do  I  care  about  pol'tics?  I  shore 
ain't  no  nigger-lovin'  reepublican.  At  the 
same  time,  I  ain't  no  cheap  hoss-thief  of  a 
democrat,  neither,  even  if  I  does  come  from 
Texas.  Why,  Doc,  takin'  jedge  an'  opposin' 
counsel  an'  the  clerk  who  records  the  decree,  on 
down  to  that  ornery  auctioneer  of  a  sheriff  who 
sells  up  my  stock  at  public  vandoo  for  costs 
an'  al'mony  the  time  my  Laredo  wife  grabs  off 
her  divorce,  every  .stick-up  among  'em's  a 
democrat.  An'  while  I  don't  know  nothin' 
about  pol'tics,  an'  never  aims  to,  you  can  go 
the  limit  on  it  I  ain't  nothin'  them  bandits  be. 
Which  I'd  sooner  be  a  prohibitionist!' 

"Enright  an'  Peets  an'  Texas  keeps  on  dis- 
cussin'  ontil  the  misonderstandin'  is  laid  bar', 
an'  Texas  is  quick  to  admit  that  he's  been 
mistook.  Tutt,  who's  willin'  an'  ready,  is 
brought  in,  an'  the  pa'r  reeconciled. 

c  *An',  old  man,'  says  Tutt,  usin'  both  hands 
to  shake  with  Texas,  'I'd  on  the  level  feel  a 
heap  better  if  it's  me  who  gets  busted  in  the 
laig.' 


294         Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

"  'Don't  mention  it,  Dave,'  returns  Texas, 
who,  now  he  reelizes  what  he's  done,  is  deeply 
affected.  'I  was  plumb  wrong;  I  sees  it  now. 
Also,,  if  in  the  fullness  of  time  Annalinda  de- 
clar's  in  favor  of  weddin'  little  Enright  Peets, 
I  yereby  binds  myse'f  to  back  them  nuptials 
for  a  thousand  head  of  steers.' 

"Texas,'  an'  the  water  stands  in  Tutt's 
eyes,  'while  it's  the  first  I  hears  of  sech  a  racket, 
yere's  my  hand  that  I'll  go  with  you,  steer  for 
steer  an'  hoof  for  hoof.' 

"What  Peets  calls  'the  logic  of  the  sityooa- 
tion'  p'ints  to  licker  all  around;  an',  as  we-all 
drinks  to  the  onclouded  future  of  Annalinda 
an'  little  Enright  Peets,  Texas  an'  Tutt  ag'in 
shakes  mighty  fervent  for  the  second  time." 


XI 

THE   FUNERAL   OF   OLD    HOLT 

"That  Turner  person!  Does  he  remain  in 
Wolfville  long?"  The  old  cattleman  repeated 
my  question  as  though  feeling  for  its  bearings. 
"Well,  he  don't  break  no  records.  Which  I 
should  say  now  he  sojourns  with  us  mebby  it's 
six  months  before  he  ups  stakes  an'  pulls  his 
freight  back  East.  Oh,  no;  it  ain't  that  any 
gent  who's  licensed  to  call  himse'f  a  molder  of 
public  opinion,  sech  as  Enright  or  Peets,  ob 
jects  to  the  Turner  person's  further  presence 
none.  Speakin'  gen'ral,  the  heft  of  feelin'  is  in 
his  favor.  Not  but  what  he  has  deeficiencies. 
It's  no  easy  shot,  offhand,  to  tell  you  preecisely 
whar  this  Turner  person  is  camped  in  common 
esteem.  Perhaps  it's  enough  to  say  he's  one  of 
them  parties  who,  while  they  don't  excite  your 
disapproval,  is  shore  to  keep  you  loaded  with 
regrets. 

"Ain't  you  met  up  frequent  with  that  form 
of  horned  toad?  Thar's  nothin'  you  can  lodge 

295 


296         Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

ag'inst  'em,  nothin'  at  which  a  vig'lance  com 
mittee  can  rope  an'  fasten ;  they're  honest,  well 
meanin',  even  gen'rous;  an'  yet  thar  they  be, 
upholstered  by  nacher  in  some  occult  way  with 
about  the  same  chance  of  bein'  pop'lar  as  a  wet 
dog.  Speakin'  for  myse'f,  I  feels  sorry  for 
these  yere  onforchoonate  mavericks,  con 
demned  as  they  be  at  birth  to  go  pirootin'  from 
the  cradle  to  the  grave,  meetin'  everywhar 
about  the  same  welcome  which  awaits  a  polecat 
at  a  picnic. 

"Thar's  no  predom'natin'  element  of  evil  in 
this  Turner  person.  Which  in  his  case  the 
trouble  swings  an'  rattles  on  the  way  he's  built. 
His  crownin'  deef  ect,  mighty  likely,  is  that  he's 
got  one  of  them  sidehill  minds,  an'  what  idees 
he  does  evolve  can't  find  no  foothold,  but  is 
robbed  at  the  start  of  everything  reesemblin' 
perm'nancy.  I  watches  his  comin's  in  an'  go- 
in's  out  for  months  on  eend,  an'  I'm  yere  to 
say — at  the  same  time  ascribin'  to  him  no  ill 
intentions — that  onder  all  condition  an'  on  all 
o'casions  he's  as  onreli'ble  as  a  woman's  watch. 

"About  that  weddin'  he  goes  east  to  con 
summate? 

"Which  it  looks  like,  speakin'  mod'rate,  he 


The  Funeral  of  Old  Holt          297 

quits  winner.  He  travels  back  to  Sni-a-bar  as 
tame  as  tabby  cats  in  persooance  with  En- 
right's  commands,  an',  once  thar,  old  man 
Parks  an'  the  rest  of  'em  whistles  him  through 
the  marital  chute  a  heap  successful.  When  he 
shows  up  among  us,  his  blushin'  Peggy  bride 
on  his  arm,  he's  wearin'  all  the  brands  an' 
y'ear  marks  of  a  thor'ughly  married  man;  to 
sech  degrees,  indeed,  as  renders  Texas  oncom- 
fortable. 

"  'It  recalls,'  says  Texas,  'them  honeymoon 
days  I  passed  with  my  Laredo  wife  before  she 
wins  out  that  divorce.  It's  like  a  icicle  through 
my  heart  to  look  at  him,'  he  goes  on,  aloodin' 
to  the  Turner  person  an'  the  fatyoous  fog  of 
deelight  he's  evident  in.  'Thar  he  is,  like  a 
cub  b'ar,  his  troubles  all  before  him,  an'  not 
brains  enough  onder  his  skelp-lock  to  a'preeci- 
ate  his  awful  p'sition.' 

'Why,  Texas,'  remonstrates  Nell  as,  the 
turn  comin'  trey-nine,  she  picks  a  stack  of 
bloos  off  the  trey  an'  puts  it  in  the  check  rack, 
'you  talks  of  wedlock  as  though  that  sacri- 
ment's  a  brace.  Plenty  of  folks  has  beat  the 
game.  Thar's  Tutt  an'  Tucson  Jennie.' 

"  'Them  nuptials  of  Dave's  an'  Jennie's, 


298         Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

Nell,'  returns  Texas,  shakin'  his  head  a  heap 
gloomy,  'ain't  far  enough  to  the  r'ar  to  afford 
a  preecedent.  Wait  till  Dave  wakes  up.' 

"  "Till  Dave  wakes  up?'  says  Boggs,  who's 
busy  at  the  lay-out,  an'  has  jest  planted  a  stack 
of  reds  coppered  in  the  big  squar'.  'Sech 
pess'mism,  Texas,  is  reedic'lous.  Bein'  mar 
ried  that  a-way,  I  takes  it,  is  somethin'  like 
walkin'  a  tightrope.  It  reequires  care,  but  it 
can  be  did.  To  be  shore,  if  anything  happens, 
you're  in  for  a  jo-darter  of  a  jolt.  Still,  the 
resk  don't  render  the  feat  imposs'ble,  an'  a 
brave  man  disregyards  it.' 

"  'That's  whatever,'  comments  Nell,  as,  the 
king  fallin'  to  win,  she  draws  down  Boggs 's 
reds. 

"Thar's  no  chill  on  the  reception  we  confers 
on  the  Turner  person  an'  his  Peggy  bride. 
Monte  has  orders,  in  case  they're  aboard,  to 
onlimber  his  shotgun  a  mile  or  two  outside  of 
camp,  so's  we  gets  notice  an'  is  not  caught  off 
our  gyard.  For  once  the  old  drunkard  is  faith 
ful  to  his  trust,  an'  when  we  hears  him  whang- 
in'  away  with  both  bar 'Is,  we  turns  out,  as  they 
say  in  Noo  York,  en  masse.  Every  gent 
empties  the  six  chambers  of  his  gun  as  the  stage 


The  Funeral  of  Old  Holt          299 

pulls  up,  an'  the  Turner  person  he'ps  out  his 
Peggy  bride  into  the  center  of  a  most  joyful 
foosilade.  We  couldn't  have  done  more  if 
she's  the  Queen  of  Sheba. 

"The  Turner  person  an'  his  Peggy  bride  is 
in  right  from  the  go.  Missis  Rucker  declar's 
that  the  bride's  a  lady;  Nell  proclaims  her  as 
'shore  corn-fed,'  while  Tucson  Jennie  allows 
she's  a  whole  lot  too  good  for  sech  a  jack-rab 
bit  of  a  husband  as  she  gets. 

"Her  beauty? 

"Which  you  couldn't  say  it's  calc'lated  to 
blind. 

"For  mere  loveliness  she  ain't  a  marker  to 
Nell.  To  be  frank,  it's  somethin'  more'n  a 
simple  question  that  a-way  if  she  splits  even 
with  Tucson  Jennie.  As  for  Missis  Rucker, 
that  matron  bein'  past  her  yooth  ain't  prop 
erly  speakin'  in  the  runnin',  an'  to  go  compar- 
in'  her  with  girls  would  be  injestice. 

"Once  landed,  an'  havin'  escaped  from  that 
ovation  we  prepar's,  the  Turner  person  an'  his 
Peggy  bride  moves  into  the  wickeyup  okyoo- 
pied  former  by  Cash  Box  Billie  an'  Missis  Bill, 
an'  opens  up  their  domestic  game.  Hearin' 
nothin'  to  the  contrary,  no  howls  of  anguish 


300        Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 


from  him,  no  yelps  of  complaint  from  her,  it's 
safe  to  say  that  in  what  joys  is  supposed  to  at 
tend  the  connoobyal  state,  they  coppers  all  of 
them  loogubrious  forebodin's  of  Texas,  an' 
gets  at  least  as  good  as  a  even  break. 

"Old  man  Parks  back  at  Sni-a-bar? 

"It  looks  like  the  Turner  person,  him  bein' 
nacherally  timid,  exaggerates  the  perils  which 
lurks  in  that  aged  cimmaron.  Leastwise,  old 
Parks  don't  offer  no  voylance  to  him,  neither 
at  the  weddin'  nor  later.  Some  waifword  does 
come  creepin'  along  that  durin'  the  cer'mony 
two  of  the  guests  has  to  hold  old  Parks,  an' 
that  he's  searched  for  weepons  by  the  preacher 
before  ever  said  divine  consents  to  turn  his 
game  at  all.  Which  I'm  free  to  say,  however, 
I  never  lends  no  creedence  to  them  yarns. 

"The  Turner  person,  now  he's  established 
as  a  married  gent  an'  a  cit'zen  in  full  standin', 
gives  himse'f  horn  an'  hide  to  business  that 
a-way.  He's  as  prompt  about  openin'  his  cof 
fin  emporium  as  ever  is  Black  Jack  in  throwin' 
wide  the  portals  of  the  Red  Light.  Once  thar, 
he  stays  ontil  the  evenin'  lamps  is  lit,  layin' 
for  a  corpse  to  use  his  new  hearse  on. 

"Also,  the  Turner  person  has  hopes:  an' 


The  Funeral  of  Old  Holt          301 

equally  also  he  ain't  without  foundations 
wharon  to  build.  Thar's  an  uncle  of  Arm 
strong  who  has  come  totterin'  into  camp,  as  he 
says  himse'f ,  to  die.  Likewise,  it's  the  onbiased 
view  of  every  gent  in  the  outfit  that  this  reela- 
tive  of  Armstrong  possesses  reasons.  He's  a 
walkin'  wreck.  Peets  concedes  that  he's  got 
every  malady  ever  heard  of,  besides  sev'ral  as 
to  which  science  is  plumb  in  the  dark. 

"Nacherally,  not  alone  the  Turner  person, 
but  the  public  at  large,  riggers  that  this  yere 
uncle'll  shore  furnish  employment  for  the 
hearse,  an'  at  no  distant  day.  But  it  looks  like 
that  onmitigated  invalid  is  out  to  test  our  pa 
tience.  Mornin'  after  mornin'  he  comes  scuf- 
flin'  into  the  Red  Light  on  two  canes  to  get  his 
matootinal  nosepaint,  an'  this  he  keeps  up 
ontil  it  begins  to  look  like  malice.  Ree'lizin', 
too,  the  pecooliar  int'rest  we-all  is  bound  to 
take  in  him  onder  the  circumstances,  he  puts 
on  airs,  an'  goes  by  us  when  he  meets  us  as 
coldly  haughty  as  a  paycar  by  a  tramp.  Or, 
ag'in,  he's  prone  to  grin  at  us  plenty  peevish 
an'  malev'lent,  an'  this  he  does  partic'lar  if  the 
Turner  person's  hoverin'  round. 

'Which  I  shore  deespises  to  keep  you  boys 


302         Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

waitin','  he'd  say,  with  a  cacklin',  aggravatin' 
laugh;  'but  the  way  I  feels  it'd  be  prematoore 
to  go  greasin'  up  the  hubs  of  that  hearse.' 

"Sech  taunts  he  flings  forth  constant,  ontil 
he  comes  mighty  near  drivin'  Boggs  frantic. 

*  'It  seems,'  says  Boggs,  'like  simply  livin' 
ain't  good  enough  for  that  old  hoss  thief.  To 
be  wholly  happy  he's  obleeged  to  make  his  stay 
on  earth  a  source  of  mis'ry  to  other  folks. 
Which  he  ought  to've  been  in  his  tomb  ten 
years  ago.  Every  day  he  draws  his  breath  is 
so  much  velvet;  an',  instead  of  bein'  thankful, 
all  he  thinks  of  is  makin'  mean  reemarks  an' 
sayin'  bitin'  things.  He'll  keep  on  till  some 
over-provoked  sport  bends  a  six-shooter  on  his 
insultin'  head.' 

"Weeks  of  waitin'  goes  by.  Armstrong's 
old  badger  of  a  uncle  hangs  on,  an'  no  outside 
corpse  falls  in,  Arizona,  as  you  doubtless 
savvys,  bein'  scand'lously  healthy  that  a-way. 
So  far,  too,  from  any  el'g'ble  subject  arrivin' 
in  the  usual  way,  the  town  never  experiences 
sech  a  period  of  rippleless  an'  onruffled  peace. 
As  showin',  too,  how  far  the  public  is  willin' 
to  go  to  he'p  along  the  play,  I  need  only  men 
tion  that  on  two  o'casions  Boggs  leaves  out  his 


The  Funeral  of  Old  Holt          303 

best  pony  all  night,  himse'f  sprawled  in  behind 
a  mesquite  bush  with  his  Winchester,  hopin' 
some  Mexican'll  prove  weak  enough  to  want 
it.  All  is  in  vain,  however.  Thar  we  be, 
framed  up  to  give  a  fooneral  from  which 
Cochise  County  could  date  time,  an'  nothin'  in 
the  line  of  raw  material  wharwith  to  pull  it  off. 
Which  I  never  sees  the  gen'ral  feelin'  more 
exasperated.  It's  as  though  in  a  sperit  of  sar 
casm  our  destinies  is  mockin'  us. 

"The  Turner  person,  in  the  face  of  this  yere 
disheartenin'  idleness,  takes  refooge  in  a  trot- 
tin'  hoss,  which  form  of  equine  is  as  strange 
to  us  as  camelopards.  Shore,  we  has  our  run- 
nin'  races,  pony  ag'inst  pony,  a  quarter  of  a 
mile  dash;  but  that's  as  far  as  we  goes. 

"The  Turner  person  says  that  for  himse'f 
he  prefers  trottin'  races,  an'  after  seein'  him 
ride  once  I  shore  quits  marvellin'  at  that  pref '- 
rence.  You  could  no  more  keep  him  on  a  pony 
than  you  could  keep  him  on  a  red-hot  stove. 
We  ties  a  roll  of  blankets  across  the  horn  of 
the  saddle,  an'  organizes  him  with  buckin' 
straps  besides,  an'  in  the  face  of  all  them  safe- 
gyards  he  rolls  off  that  hoss  same  as  you'd  ex 
pect  some  chambermaid  to  do. 


304         Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

"Accordin'  to  the  Turner  person,  trottin' 
races  is  the  sport  of  kings,  an'  aetin'  on  this 
feelin'  he  sends  back  East  for  a  boss.  He 
drives  it  in  one  evenin'  behind  the  stage,  an' 
we-all  goes  over  to  the  corral  to  size  it  up.  It's 
considerable  of  a  boss,  too,  standin'  three  hands 
higher  than  the  tallest  of  our  ponies.  Also,  it 
has  a  ewe  neck  an'  lib'ral  legs.  It's  name  is 
'Henry  of  Navarre,'  but  we  sees  at  once  that 
sech'll  never  do,  an'  re-christens  him  'Boom 
erang  Bob.' 

"When  this  boss  arrives  Boggs  gets  excited, 
an'  him  an'  the  Turner  person  lays  out  a  track 
all  around  town  like  a  belt.  Boggs  allows  it's 
a  mile  long,  or  near  enough,  an'  after  a  passel 
of  Greasers  cl'ars  away  the  cactus  an'  mesquite 
an'  Spanish  bayonet,  the  Turner  person  hooks 
up  Boomerang  to  a  mountain  wagon,  an'  sends 
him  'round  an'  'round  an'  'round  at  a  pace 
that'd  make  your  eyes  stick  out  so  far  you 
could  see  your  sins.  Old  Boomerang  is  shore 
some  eevanescent!  When  that  Turner  person 
shakes  the  reins  an'  yells  'Skoot!'  you  could 
hear  him  whizz.  On  sech  occasions  he's  nothin' 
short  of  a  four-laigged  meteor,  an'  looks  forty 
feet  long  passin'  a  given  p'int. 


The  Funeral  of  Old  Holt          305 

"The  big  drawback  is  that  thar  ain't  no 
quadrooped  anywhar  about  to  race  Boomerang 
ag'inst.  Leastwise,  we  don't  hear  of  none  for 
goin'  on  some  months,  an'  when  we  do  it's  as 
far  away  as  Albuquerque.  Some  consump 
tive  tenderfoot,  it  looks  like,  has  got  a  trottin' 
hoss  over  some'ers  between  Albuquerque  an' 
Socorro,  sech  at  least  is  the  word  which  comes 
to  us. 

"When  this  pulmonary  sport  hears  of 
Boomerang,  which  he  does  by  virchoo  of  the 
overblown  boastin's  of  the  Turner  person,  he 
announces  that  his  hoss,  Toobercloses,  can  beat 
him  for  money,  marbles  or  chalk.  Then  comes 
a  season  of  bluff  an'  counter-bluff,  the  pul 
monary  party  insistin'  that  the  Turner  person 
bring  Boomerang  up  to  Albuquerque,  an'  the 
Turner  person  darin'  the  pulmonary  sport  to 
fetch  his  'dog,'  as  he  scornfully  terms  Toober 
closes,  down  to  Wolfville. 

"It's  to  be  said  for  the  Turner  person  that 
he'd  have  shore  took  Boomerang,  an'  gone  ro- 
mancin'  off  to  Albuquerque,  lookin'  for  that 
weak-lunged  reprobate  an'  his  hoss,  only  sent'- 
ment  is  plumb  ag'inst  it.  We-all  don't  pro 
pose  to  lose  the  camp  the  advantages  of  that 


306         Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

contest,  an'  so  to  put  an  eend  to  discussion,  we 
urges  upon  the  Turner  person  that  we-all'll 
shore  kill  him  if  he  tries.  This  yere  firmness 
gives  us  the  preference  over  Albuquerque,  an' 
the  pulmonary  sport  allows  final  that  he'll 
come  to  Wolfville,  but  don't  say  when. 

"While  eevents  is  thus  a-whirl,  an'  the 
camp's  all  keyed  up  to  concert  pitch  over  the 
comin'  race  between  Boomerang  an'  Toober- 
closes,  the  long-hoped  for  comes  to  pass  an'  the 
Turner  person,  as  fooneral  director,  receives  his 
'nitial  call.  Over  in  Red  Dog  is  a  party  named 
Holt.  He  ain't  standin'  none  too  high,  him 
havin'  married  a  Mexican  woman,  an'  even 
them  Red  Dogs  has  the  se'f-respect  to  draw 
the  social  line  at  Mexicans.  One  sun-up,  how 
ever,  she  goes  trapesin'  across  the  line  to  visit 
her  people  down  near  Casa  Grande,  an'  she 
never  does  come  back.  It  looks  like  she's  got 
enough  of  old  Holt,  which  to  gents  who  knows 
him  don't  go  trenchin'  on  the  strange. 

"The  long  suit  of  this  yere  Mexican  wife  of 
old  Holt's  is  thinkin'  she's  sick,  she  holdin' 
that  she's  got  as  many  things  the  matter  with 
her  as  is  preyin'  on  Armstrong's  uncle.  When 
she  breaks  out  of  the  corral  an'  goes  stamped- 


The  Funeral  of  Old  Holt          307 

in'  off  to  her  tribe,  she  leaves  behind  mebby 
it's  a  hundred  bottles  or  more  of  patent  med'- 
cine,  rangin'  all  the  way  from  arnica  to  ha'r 
dye. 

"Followin'  her  flight  that  a-way  old  Holt 
goes  to  takin'  an  account  of  stock  by  way  of 
seein'  what  she  cabbages  an'  what  she  leaves, 
an'  the  first  flash  he  blunders  upon  this  yere 
bushel  or  so  of  drugs.  He's  too  froogal  to 
throw  'em  away,  old  Holt  is,  bein'  plumb  par- 
s'monious  that  a-way,  an'  after  revolvin'  the 
play  in  his  mind  for  a  spell,  he  ups  an'  swal 
lows  'em  to  save  'em. 

"No  one  ever  does  figger  out  jest  what  in- 
dividyooal  med'cine  bumps  old  Holt  off  that 
time,  an'  thar's  no  sayin'  whether  it's  the  arnica 
or  the  ha'r  dye  or  some  other  deecoction,  or 
simply  the  whole  clan-jamfrey  in  comb'nation. 
Not  that  any  gent  goes  to  reely  delvin'  for  the 
trooth,  the  gen'ral  interest  pitchin'  camp  con 
tentedly  on  the  simple  fact  that  old  Holt's  been 
shore  put  over  the  jump.  Doc  Peets?  Old 
Holt's  packed  in  before  the  Doc's  half  way  to 
Red  Dog.  Shore;  some  of  them  bottled  med'- 
cines  is  as  ack'rate  an'  as  full  of  action  as  a 
six-shooter. 


308        Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

"Of  course  we-all  is  pleased  to  think  the 
Turner  person,  as  fooneral  director,  ain't 
been  born  to  bloom  onseen,  but  the  rift  in  the 
floote  is  that  the  corpse  belongs  to  Red  Dog. 
Old  Holt  ain't  ours  none,  an'  from  whatever 
angle  we  looks  at  it  it  appears  like  Wolfville 
ain't  goin'  to  get  a  look  in. 

"It's  at  pinches  sech  as  this  that  Enright 
shows  his  genius  for  leadership.  While  all  of 
us  is  lookin'  bloo,  to  see  how  Red  Dog  beats 
us  to  it  for  our  own  hearse,  our  fertile  old  war 
chief  is  ribbin'  up  a  game  for  pop'lar  relief. 

"The  Red  Dog  del'gation,  headed  by  the 
Red  Dog  chief,  comes  over  to  round  up  the 
Turner  person  an'  his  hearse  to  entomb  old 
Holt.  At  their  showin'  up  Enright  begins  to 
onkiver  his  diplomacy. 

"  'Which  we  symp'thizes  with  you-all  in  your 
bereevement,  gents,'  says  he  to  the  Red  Dog 
bunch,  'but  it's  ag'inst  our  rooles  for  this  yere 
hearse  to  go  outside  of  camp.' 

'  'Ain't  you  actin'  some  niggardly  about 
that  hearse?'  asks  the  Red  Dog  chief  coldly. 

'  'Not  niggardly,  only  proodent.  Death 
cometh  as  a  thief  in  the  night,  speshully  in 
Arizona,  an'  we-all'd  be  a  fine  band  of  prairie 


The  Funeral  of  Old  Holt          309 

dogs  to  go  lendin'  our  only  hearse  all  over  the 
territory,  an'  mebby  have  it  skallyhootin' 
'round  som'ers  up  about  the  Utah  line  jest 
when  we  needs  it  at  home.  However,  as  re- 
footin'  your  onjest  charge  of  bein'  niggards,  if 
you-all  Red  Dogs  wants  to  bring  deceased  over 
yere,  our  entire  lay-out  is  at  your  disposal.  Al- 
lowin'  you  can  find  your  own  sky-pilot,  we 
stands  ready  to  not  only  let  you  have  our 
hearse,  but  furnish  you  likewise  with  moosic 
from  the  Bird  Cage  Op'ry  House,  cha'rs  from 
the  dance  hall,  the  Noo  York  store  to  hold 
serv'ces  in,  to  say  nothin'  to  considerin'  you-all 
as  our  guests  from  soda  to  hock,  with  every 
Red  Light  thing  said  term  implies.' 

6  'Also,'  observes  Peets,  who,  from  his  place 
at  Enright's  elbow,  is  ridin'  circumspect  herd 
on  the  play — 'also,  we  presents  you-all,  with 
out  money  an'  without  price,  a  sepulcher  in 
our  buryin'  ground  on  Boot  Hill.' 

"This  yere  last  provokes  a  storm  of  protest, 
the  Red  Dog  delegation  takin'  turns  exposchoo- 
latin'.  But  Enright  an'  the  Doc  stands  ca'mly 
pat. 

"  'Which  now,'  says  the  Red  Dog  chief,  an* 
his  tones  is  bitter — 'which  now  I  begins  to 


310        Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

ketch  onto  your  plot.  You  savvys  as  well  as 
I  do  that  old  Holt  don't  ought  to  go  into  your 
pile  at  all.  He  belongs  in  our  pile — to  Red 
Dog's  pile.  An'  let  me  reemind  you  intriguers 
that  Red  Dog  owns  its  own  cem'tery  over  in 
Headboard  Hollow,  an'  ain't  askin'  graveyard 
odds  of  any  outfit  west  of  the  Spanish  Peaks. 
This  is  a  fine  idee,'  he  eoncloods,  turnin'  sneer- 
in'ly  to  his  cohorts ;  'not  content  with  tryin'  to 
grab  off  these  yere  obs'quies,  they're  brazenly 
manooverin'  to  purloin  the  corpse.' 

"At  these  contoomelius  reemarks  Boggs, 
Tutt,  Moore  an'  Cherokee  takes  to  edgin'  to 
the  fore,  but  Enright  reepr esses  'em  with  a 
admon'tory  wave  of  his  hand. 

"  'Gents,'  he  says,  to  the  Red  Dog  hold-ups, 
'as  vis'tors,  even  though  se'f-invited,  you're 
entitled  to  courtesy.  But  thar's  a  limit  goes 
with  courtesy  even,  an'  you-all  mustn't  press 
it.' 

"This  last  sets  the  Red  Dog  outfit  back  on 
its  apol'getic  ha'nches,  an'  after  a  few  more 
footile  but  less  insultin'  bluffs,  they  retires  to 
consult.  The  wind-up  is  that  they  yields  to 
Enright's  terms,  incloosive  of  Boot  Hill,  an' 
after  libatin'  at  the  Red  Light  they  canters  off 


The  Funeral  of  Old  Holt          311 

to  freight  over  old  Holt,  so's  to  be  ready  to 
hold  the  f ooneral  next  day. 

"As  I  looks  back  to  them  prep'rations  thar's 
no  denyin'  that  as  a  f  ooneral  director  the  Tur 
ner  person  proves  himse'f  plumb  cap'ble  of 
gettin'  thar  with  the  goods.  Once  he  reeceives 
the  word,  everything  goes  off  as  measured  an? 
steady  as  the  breathin'  of  a  sleepin'  child. 
Even  the  Red  Dog  chief  is  moved  to  softer 
views,  as  gents  frequent  be  followin'  the 
eighth  drink,  an'  whispers  to  Enright,  confi- 
denshul,  that  when  all's  in  the  only  thing  he 
deplores  is  that  old  Holt  is  bein'  planted  on 
Boot  Hill  instead  of  in  Headboard  Hollow. 
At  this  Enright,  meetin'  the  Red  Dog  chief 
half-way,  whispers  back  that  later,  if  Red  Dog 
desires  the  same,  we'll  jump  in  an'  move  old 
Holt  a  whole  lot  to  Headboard  Hollow.  At 
this  lib'ral'ty  the  Red  Dog  chief  squeezes  En- 
right's  hand  a  heap  fraternal,  an'  chokes  with 
emotion.  He  sobs  out  that  this  is  the  one  thing 
wanted  to  reestore  them  former  friendly  ree- 
lations  between  the  camps. 

"The  procession  is  one  of  the  most  exmT- 
ratin'  pageants  ever  seen  in  the  Southwest. 
At  the  head  is  the  ploomed  hearse,  old  Holt 


312         Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

inside,  the  Turner  person  on  the  box.  Next 
comes  the  stage  coach,  Monte  drivin',  an'  Nell, 
Missis  Rucker,  Tucson  Jennie,  little  Enright 
Peets,  the  Turner  person's  Peggy  bride  an' 
other  ladies  inside.  The  balance  of  us  attends 
on  our  ponies,  ridin'  two  an'  two. 

"As  we're  waitin'  for  the  preacher  sharp, 
who's  goin'  in  the  stage,  to  get  tucked  in  among 
the  ladies,  a  hollow-chested,  chalk-cheeked, 
sardonic-lookin',  cynical-seemin'  bandit,  driv 
in'  a  lean-laigged  hoss  to  one  of  them  spid'ry 
things  they  calls  a  quill-wheel,  comes  pirootin' 
along  over  to  one  side  of  the  fooneral  cortege 
at  a  walk.  He's  p'intin'  in  from  over  Red 
Dog  way,  but  I  savvys  from  the  wonderin' 
faces  of  them  Red  Dog  sports  that  he's  as  new 
to  them  as  us.  The  cynical  bandit  skirts  along 
our  procession  ontil  he's  abreast  of  the  hearse. 
Then  he  pulls  up,  we-all  not  havin'  had  the 
word  to  start  as  yet. 

"The  Turner  person  has  hooked  up  old 
Boomerang  to  the  hearse,  so  as  to  confer  on 
this  his  first  fooneral  all  the  style  he  can.  Hav 
in'  halted  his  quill-wheel,  the  hectic  bandit, 
coughin'  a  little,  p'ints  his  whip  at  Boomerang 
an'  says  to  the  Turner  person : 


The  Funeral  of  Old  Holt          313 

"  'Is  this  the  skate  you're  tryin'  to  match 
ag'inst  my  Toobercloses  ?' 

"  'Grizzly  b'ars  an'  golden  eagles !'  exclaims 
Boggs,  who's  ridin'  next  to  me,  'if  he  ain't  that 
lunger  from  Albuquerque!'  An'  Boggs  pulls 
out  to  the  left,  an'  crowds  up  towards  the 
hearse  for  a  closer  look. 

'  cAs  fooneral  director,'  the  Turner  person 
replies  to  the  hectic,  quill-wheel  bandit,  whom 
he  fathoms  instantly — 'as  fooneral  director,  I 
must  preeserve  the  decorums.  But  only  you 
wait,  you  onblushin'  outlaw,  ontil  I've  patted 
down  the  sods  on  old  Holt  yere,  an'  I'll  race 
you  for  every  splinter  you  own.' 

"  'That's  all  right,'  retorts  the  hectic  bandit, 
givin'  another  little  cat-cough.  'Which  you 
needn't  get  your  ondertakin'  back  up  none. 
Meanwhile,  I'll  nacherally  string  along  with 
these  obs'quies,  so's  to  be  ready  to  talk  turkey 
to  you  when  you're  through.' 

"Enright  gives  the  signal  an',  with  Boom 
erang  an'  the  hearse  at  the  head,  the  proces 
sion  lines  out  at  a  seedate  walk  for  the  grave. 

"Boot  Hill's  been  located  about  a  mile  an' 
a  half  off,  so  as  to  give  our  foonerals  doo  ef 
fect.  As  we  pushes  for'ard,  everything 


'314        Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

mighty  solemn,  the  hectic  bandit,  keepin'  a  few 
feet  off  to  one  side,  walks  his  hoss  parallel 
with  the  hearse.  Every  now  an'  then  his  hoss, 
makin'  a  half  bolt  as  if  he's  been  flicked  by  the 
lash,  would  streak  ahead  a  rod  or  two  like  a 
four-laigged  shadow.  Then  he'd  pull  him 
down  to  a  walk,  an'  sort  o'  linger  along  ontil 
the  hearse  comes  up  ag'in.  He  does  this  a 
half  dozen  times;  an'  all  in  a  hectorin'  sperit 
that'd  anger  the  pulseless  soul  of  a  clarn. 

"One  way  an'  another  it  stirs  up  the  feelin's 
of  old  Boomerang,  who's  beginnin'  to  bite  at 
the  bit  an'  throw  his  laigs  some  antic  an'  per- 
miscus.  The  Turner  person  himse'f  acts  like 
a  party  who's  holdin'  onto  his  eemotions  by 
the  tail,  so  as  to  keep  'em  from  breakin'  loose. 
His  face  is  set,  his  elbows  squar'd,  an'  he's  set- 
tin'  up  on  his  hearse  as  stiff  an'  straight  as  a 
rifle  bar'l,  lookin'  dead  ahead  between  old 
Boomerang's  two  y'ears.  So  it  goes  on  for 
likely  half  a  mile,  the  hectic  bandit  seesawin' 
an'  pesterin'  an'  badgerin'  old  Boomerang, 
now  dartin'  ahead,  now  slowin'  back  to  let  the 
hearse  ketch  up. 

"As  I  yeretofore  explains,  the  Turner  per 
son  ain't  arranged  mental  to  entertain  more'n 


The  Funeral  of  Old  Holt          315 

one  idee  at  a  time.  My  own  notion  is  that  as 
the  hectic  bandit,  with  Toobercloses,  com 
mences  to  encroach  more  an'  more  upon  his 
attention,  he  loses  sight  that  a-way  of  old  Holt 
an'  the  fooneral.  Whatever  the  valyoo  of  this 
as  a  theery,  thar  comes  a  moment,  about  a 
mile  from  Boot  Hill,  when,  as  sudden  as  the 
crack  of  a  rifle,  away  goes  Boomerang  with 
the  rush  of  a  norther.  Toobercloses  ain't  a  sec 
ond  behind.  Thar  they  be,  Toobercloses  ag'inst 
Boomerang,  quill- wheel  ag'inst  hearse,  old 
Holt  inside,  racin'  away  to  beat  a  royal  flush. 

"As  hearse  an'  quill-wheel  go  t'arin'  down 
the  trail  Monte  gets  the  fever,  an'  sets  to 
pourin'  the  buckskin  into  his  three  span,  an' 
yellin'  like  forty  Apaches.  The  six  bosses  goes 
into  their  collars  like  lions,  an'  the  stage  takes 
to  rockin'  an'  boundin'  an'  bumpin'  in  clost 
pursoote  of  the  hearse.  Nor  be  we-all  on 
ponies  left  any  behind,  you  bet.  We  cuts 
loose,  quirt  an'  spur,  an'  brings  up  the  r'ar  in  a 
dust-liftin',  gallopin'  half-moon.  It's  on- 
doubted  the  quickest -mo  vin'  fooneral  that  ever 
gets  pulled  off. 

"Old  Holt,  an'  put  it  lightest,  is  a  one  hun 
dred  an'  eighty  pounder,  an'  the  hearse  itse'f 


316        Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

is  as  heavy  as  a  Studebaker  wagon.  From 
standp'ints  of  weight  pore  old  Boomerang 
ain't  gettin'  a  squar'  deal.  Which  the  old  hero 
ain't  got  no  notion  of  bein'  beat,  though.  He's 
all  heart  an'  bottom;  an',  game? — bald  hornets 
is  quitters  to  him! 

"The  load  begins  to  tell  at  last,  though,  an' 
inch  by  inch  Toobercloses  starts  to  nose  Boom 
erang  out.  It's  then  the  flood-gates  is  lifted. 
Nell,  head  out  of  one  of  the  coach  windows, 
starts  screamin'  to  Boomerang;  Missis  Back 
er's  got  her  sunbonnet  out  of  another,  express- 
in'  her  opinion  of  the  hectic  bandit  an'  Toober 
closes;  Tucson  Jennie  is  shoutin'  for  Dave  to 
come  an'  rescue  her;  the  Turner  person's 
Peggy  is  shriekin'  with  hysterics ;  the  preacher 
sharp — who's  tryin'  to  get  at  Monte — is  talkin' 
scriptoorally  but  various,  while  little  Enright 
Peets  is  contreebutin'  his  small  cub-coyote 
yelps  of  exultation  to  the  gen'ral  racket. 

"Back  among  us  riders  the  bets  is  flyin' 
hither  an'  yon  as  thick  as  swallow  birds  at  even 
tide,  we  offerin'  hundreds  on  Boomerang  an' 
them  Red  Dogs  backin'  Toobercloses.  It's  as 
the  tech  of  death  to  the  Wolfville  heart  when 
we  sees  Toobercloses  slowly  surgin'  to  the  fore. 


THAR'S  A  BOMBARDMENT  WHICH  SOUNDS  LIKE  A  BATTERY  OF  CATLINGS,  THE  WHOLE 
PUNCTCHOOATED  BY  A  WHIRLWIND  OF  "WHOOPS!"  p.  317. 


The  Funeral  of  Old  Holt          317 

"Half-way  to  Boot  Hill  Boggs  spurs  up  on 
the  nigh  flank  of  Boomerang. 

"  'Yere's  whar  we  puts  a  little  verve  into 
this  thing!'  he  roars;  an'  pullin'  his  guns  he  be 
gins  shakin'  the  loads  out  of  'em  like  roman 
candles. 

"Wolfville  an'  Red  Dog,  every  gent  follows 
Boggs'  example.  It  sounds  like  a  battery  of 
gattlings,  the  whole  punctchooated  by  a  whirl 
wind  of  *  Whoops!'  that'd  have  backed  a  war 
party  of  Apaches  over  a  bluff.  They  almost 
hears  us  in  Tucson. 

"Old  Boomerang  reesponds  noble  to  Boggs's 
six-shooters.  They  was  the  preecise  kind  of 
encouragement  he's  been  waitin'  for,  an'  onder 
their  inspiration  he  t'ars  by  Toobercloses  like  a 
thrown  lance.  We  sweeps  on  to  Boot  Hill, 
makin'  a  deemoniac  finish,  old  Boomerang 
leadin'  by  the  len'th  of  the  hearse. 

"Nobody's  hurt,  onless  you  wants  to  count 
that  hectic  bandit  from  Albuquerque.  After 
he's  beat  cold,  Toobercloses  gets  tangled  up 
accidental  in  a  mesquite  bush,  the  quill-wheel 
swaps  eends  with  itse'f,  an'  the  hectic  Albu 
querque  bandit  lands  head  on  in  a  bunch  of 
cactus.  He's  shore  a  spectacle ;  an'  Peets  says 


318        Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

private  that  for  a  while  thar's  hopes  he'll  die. 
As  for  the  parson,  who's  the  sorest  divine  in 
Arizona,  he  allows  that  the  only  bet  he  ever 
knows  prov'dence  to  overlook  is  not  breakin' 
the  hectic  bandit's  neck. 

"Nacherally,  the  Red  Dogs  feels  some 
grouchy  at  the  way  things  has  gone,  an'  while 
they  gives  up  their  orig'nal  thought  of  lynch- 
in'  the  hectic  bandit,  they're  plenty  indignant 
at  him  for  turnin'  old  Holt's  fooneral  into  a 
boss  race.  It  ain't  old  Holt  that's  frettin'  'em 
so  much  as  that  they  feels  like  it's  a  disgrace 
on  their  camp. 

"This  yere  Red  Dog  feelin'  prodooces  a  on- 
looked  for  effect.  They  goes  gloomin'  an' 
glowerin'  'round,  an'  talkin'  to  themselves  to 
sech  a  hostile  extent  it  ups  an'  scares  the  Tur 
ner  person.  Plumb  timid  by  nacher,  he  gets 
afraid  the  Red  Dogs'  indignation'll  incloode 
him  final,  an'  eend  by  drawin'  their  horns  his 
way.  It's  no  use  tryin'  to  ca'm  him.  Argyoo- 
ment,  reemonstrance,  even  a  promise  to  pro 
tect  him  with  our  lives,  has  no  effect.  The 
Turner  person,  in  a  last  stampede  of  his  nerve, 
is  for  dustin'  back  to  Missouri — him  an'  his 
Peggy  bride.  He  says  it's  more  peaceful, 


The  Funeral  of  Old  Holt          319 

more  civ'lized  thar,  which  shore  strikes  us  as  a 
heap  jocose.  In  the  end,  however,  we  has  to 
let  him  go. 

"The  hearse? 

"We  keeps  the  hearse,  that  an'  Boomerang; 
Armstrong's  uncle  buys  'em.  He  says  he  don't 
aim  to  be  sep 'rated  none  from  the  only  hearse 
within  a  hundred  miles,  an'  him  on  the  verge 
of  the  grave. 

"  'Which  my  only  reason  for  livin'  now,'  says 
he,  'is  to  lac'rate  Boggs,  an'  even  that  as  a 
pastime  is  beginnin'  to  pall.' 

"What  time  does  Boomerang  make? 

"No  one  preetends  to  hold  a  watch.  Thar's 
one  thing,  though,  which  looks  like  he  was 
shore  goin'  some.  Tutt  on  the  way  back  picks 
up  a  dead  jack-rabbit,  that's  been  run  over  by 
the  hearse." 


XII 

SPELLING   BOOK   BEN 

"Which  it's  as  you  states."  The  old  cattle 
man  assumed  the  easy  attitude  of  one  sure  of 
his  position.  "Reefinement,  that  a-way,  will 
every  now  an'  then  hit  the  center  of  the  table 
in  manner  an'  form  most  onexpected.  Thar's 
Red  Dog.  Now  whoever  do  you  reckon  would 
look  for  sech  a  oncooth  outfit  to  go  onbeltin' 
in  any  reefined  racket  ?  An'  yet  thar's  once  at 
least  when  Red  Dog  shows  it's  got  its  silken 
side. 

"An',  after  all,  mebby  I'm  too  narrow  about 
Red  Dog.  Thar's  times  when  I  fears  that 
drawn  aside  by  prejewdyce  I  mis j  edges  Red 
Dog  utter,  an'  takes  for  ignorant  vulgar'ty 
what  comin'  down  to  cases  is  merely  noise. 
It's  the  whiskey  they  drinks,  most  likely. 
They're  addicted  to  a  kind  of  cat-bird  whiskey 
over  thar,  which  sets  'em  to  whistlin'  an'  chirp- 
in'  an'  twitterin'  an'  teeterin'  up  an'  down 
on  the  conversational  bough,  to  sech  a  seem- 
in'ly  empty-headed  extent  it's  calclated  to 

320 


Spelling  Book  Ben  321 

mislead  the  ca'mest  intellects  into  a  belief 
that  the  c'rrect  way  to  deal  with  Red  Dog 
is  to  build  one  of  these  yere  stone  corrals 
'round  it,  call  it  a  loonatic  asylum,  an'  let  it 
go  at  that. 

"Wolf viDe's  whiskey? 

"We-all  confines  ourselves  to  Valley  Tan 
an5  Willow  Run  an'  Old  Jordan,  all  lickers 
which  has  a  distinct  tendency  to  make  a  gent 
seedate,  an'  render  him  plumb  cer'monious.  I 
in  no  wise  exaggerates  when  I  avers  that  I 
freequent  cuts  the  trail  of  parties  who,  after 
the  tenth  or  mebby  it's  the  'leventh  drink 
across  the  Red  Light  bar,  waxes  that  punctil- 
lious  they  even  addresses  a  measly  Mexican 
as  'Sir.'  " 

"Recurrin'  to  Red  Dog,  that  silken  occasion 
which  I  has  in  mind  occurs  when,  proceedin' 
without  invitation  an'  wholly  as  volunteers, 
they  strings  up  the  book-keep  sharp  who 
bumps  off  Spellin'  Book  Ben.  Thar's  a  brief 
moment  when  said  action  runs  a  profound 
risk  of  bein'  misconstrooed  into  becomin' 
the  teemin'  source  of  complications.  You  see 
we  ain't  lookin'  for  nothin'  in  the  way  of  a 
play  from  Red  Dog  more  del'cate  than  the 
butt  of  a  six-shooter,  an'  it  ain't  ontil  the 


322         Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

Red    Dog    chief    himse'f    onlimbers    in    *" 
planations,    an'    all    plenty    loocid,    that    we 
ketches  fully  on. 

"Red  Dog  goes  further  an'  insists  on  payin' 
over  what  money  they  wagers,  an'  all  as  honor 
able  as  though  that  contest  which  they  bets  on 
goes  to  a  show-down.  Enright  won't  have  it, 
though,  none  whatever ;  an'  what  with  one  side 
heatedly  profferin'  an'  the  other  coldly  refoos- 
in',  it  looks  for  a  time  like  thar's  goin'  to  be 
feelin'.  Friction  is  averted,  however,  when 
Peets — who's  allers  thar  with  the  s'lootion  to 
any  tangle — recommends  that  Red  Dog  an' 
Wolf ville  chip  in  half  an'  half  conj  'intly,  to 
buy  a  tombstone  for  Spellin'  Book,  with  a  in 
scription  kyarved  tharon,  the  same  to  read: 


TO 

THE    MEMORY    OF 

SPELLING    BOOK    BEN. 

PREFERRING    DEATH    TO    THE 

APPEARANCE    OF    IGNORANCE, 

HE    DIED 
A   MARTYR   TO    LEARNING   AND 

BRAVELY 

DEFENDING   A    RIGHTFUL    ORTHOGRAPHY. 

THE    LANGUAGE    MOURNS 

HIS    LOSS. 


"  *  Which  we  simply  aims  by  this  yere  hang- 
in','  §ay&  the  Red  Dog  chief  in  makin'  them 


Spelling  Book  Ben  323 

explanations,  the  same  bein'  addressed  to  En- 
right,  'to  save  you-all  from  a  disagree'ble 
dooty.' 

"  'As  how?'  deemands  Enright,  who's  a  heap 
deef  ensive  by  instinct,  an'  never  puts  down  his 
stack  while  the  kyards  is  in  the  hands  of  the 
dealer. 

"  'As  how  to  wit,'  returns  the  Red  Dog  chief. 
'Troo,  this  book-keep  malefactor  ain't  by  rights 
no  shore-enough  Red  Dogger,  seein'  he's  a  im 
portation  of  the  express  company's  an'  at  best 
or  worst  no  more'n  a  sojourner  within  our 
gates.  But,  considerin'  how  he  trails  in  yere 
this  evenin'  in  our  company,  we  feels  respon- 
s'ble.  Wharfore,  allowin'  that  mebby — you- 
all  standin'  towards  us  visitors,  that  a-way,  in 
the  light  of  hosts — your  notion  of  hospital'ty 
gets  its  spurs  tangled  up  in  your  deelib'rations 
so  it  impedes  the  march  of  jestice,  we  inter 
venes.  Which  I  shorely  trusts  that  no  gent 
present  regyards  Red  Dog  as  that  ontaught 
as  to  go  cuttin'  in  on  what's  cl'arly  a  alien 
game  onasked.  Red  Dog  ain't  quite  that  ex- 
yooberantly  bumptious,  not  to  say  croodly  gay. 
It's  only  to  relieve  the  shoulders  of  you-all 


324        Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

from  a  burden  that  we  strings  said  offender 
up.' 

"  'Bueno!'  replies  Enright,  folio  win'  a  dig 
nified  pause,  like  he's  weighin'  the  Red  Dog 
chief's  eloocidations.  'A  gent,  onless  his  hand 
is  crowded  by  some  p'int  of  honor,  allers  takes 
the  word  of  a  fellow  gent.  In  view  of  which, 
the  execootion  you  pulls  off  is  yereby  accepted 
as  kindly  meant,  an'  as  sech  is  kindly  took. 
I'm  preepared  on  behalf  of  Wolfville  to  re- 
gyard  the  same  as  performed  in  a  sperit  of 
del'cate  courtesy.  Whatever,  Doc,  do  you-all 
say?' 

"  'Like  yourse'f,  Sam,'  says  Peets,  'I  grasps 
an'  a'preeciates  the  Red  Dog  attitoode.  Also, 
I  holds  that  the  business  thus  constrooed  is 
calc'lated  to  cement  relations  between  the  two 
camps  which,  havin'  their  roots  in  mutyooal 
esteem,  is  shore  to  b'ar  froote  in  fraternal  af 
fection.' 

"The  Doc  then  goes  on  an'  onbends  in  flat- 
terin'  asshorances  that  nothin'  could  be  finer 
worded  than  the  Red  Dog  chief's  oration,  on- 
less  it's  Enright's  reply. 

"  'As  a  jedge  of  diction,'  he  concloods,  'an' 


Spelling  Book  Ben  325 

a  lover  of  proper  speakin',  I'm  onreserved  in 
the  view  that  the  statements  of  both  ought  to 
be  preeserved  as  specimens  of  English  ondee- 
filed.' 

"Thar  havin'  been  talk  enough,  an'  Enright 
an'  Peets  contendin'  that  it's  Wolfville's  treat, 
both  sides  goes  weavin'  over  to  the  Red  Light 
an'  onbends  in  quite  a  frolic. 

"It'd  shore  been  better  if  we  had  first  cut 
down  the  corpse,  an'  tharby  dodged  the  wratK 
of  Missis  Rucker.  It's  certainly  a  oversight. 
Bar  that  single  incident,  thar  arises  nothin'  to 
mar  the  good  feelin'  which  everywhar  pree- 
vails.  Forchoonately,  that  don't  occur  none 
ontil  noon  next  day ;  an'  by  that  time  the  Red 
Dog  folks  has  all  gone  home,  leastwise  all  who 
can  go  without  f  allin'  out  of  the  saddle.  Which 
if  them  Red  Dogs  is  present,  an'  able  to  form 
opinions,  them  intemp'rate  exhibitions  of 
Missis  Rucker,  an'  what  she  says  an'  threat 
ens  ag'inst  us,  speshully  Enright,  would  have 
mortified  us  to  death. 

"As  showin'  the  vagaries  of  the  female  mind, 
Missis  Rucker  seelects  that  lynchin'  as  a  topic 
at  chuck  time,  an'  she  shore  does  carry  on 
scand'lous.  We  ain't  but  jest  filed  into  the 


326         Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

dinin'  room,  when  she  t'ars  loose  at  Enright 
like  a  cyclone  in  a  calico  dress.  Son,  she  cer 
tainly  does  curry  our  old  Lycurgus  frightful! 

"What  does  Enright  do? 

"Whatever  can  he  do  more'n  mootely  arch' 
his  back,  same  as  a  mule  in  a  storm  of  hail,  an' 
stand  it? 

"When  Missis  Rucker  has  done  freed  her 
feelin's,  an'  got  them  reecrim'nations  dealt 
down  to  the  turn,  she  shakes  a  finger  onder 
Enright's  subdooed  nose,  an'  fulm'nates  a 
warnin'. 

'  'I  tells  you  once  before,  Sam  Enright,'  she 
says,  'an'  I  tells  you  now  ag'in,  that  you-all 
drunkards  is  either  goin'  to  cease  pesterin'  me 
the  way  you  does,  or  I'm  bound  I'll  make  some 
among  you  plenty  hard  to  locate.  Now  don't 
you  go  tellin'  me  nothin','  she  shouts,  as  En- 
right  starts  to  say  somethin';  'don't  go  harrow- 
in'  me  up  with  none  of  your  fabrications.  It's 
nothin'  but  your  egreegious  pompos'ty  that 
a-way,  an'  a  gen'ral  deesire  to  put  on  dog  an' 
lord  it  over  us  pore  females  with  meals  to  cook 
an'  water  to  draw,  which  sets  you-all  to  hang- 
in'  parties  to  the  windmill  whar  they're  plumb 
in  the  way.  An'  all  after  me  takin'  my  hands 


Spelling  Book  Ben  327 

out  of  the  dough,  too,  the  time  you  Stranglers 
puts  that  B'ar  Creek  Stanton  over  the  jump, 
an'  goin'  in  person  to  the  stage  corral  to  p'int 
out  a  beam  which  is  a  heap  better  adapted.' 

'( 'But,  ma'am,'  expostyoolates  Enright, 
'you've  done  followed  off  the  wrong  wagon 
track  entire.  It  ain't  us  none;  it's  them  Red 
Dog  savages.  So  far  as  Wolfville's  con 
cerned,  him  bein'  swung  to  the  windmill,  that 
a-way,  is  plumb  fortooitous.' 

*  'Jest  the  same,'  returns  Missis  Rucker, 
who's  merciless  an'  refooses  to  be  softened, 
'you  better  take  heed  a  heap.  This  once  I  lets 
you  get  away  with  that  Red  Dog  crawl-out. 
But  if  ever  I  finds  another  party  suspended  to 
the  windmill  so's  I  can't  get  no  water,  thar's  a 
passel  of  sots,  of  whom  you,  Sam  Enright,  is 
the  onregen'rate  chief,  who'll  shore  get  their 
grub  fortooitous.' 

"Peets,  at  this  yere  crisis,  jogs  Enright 's 
elbow,  by  way  of  signin'  up  to  him  to  draw  out; 
an',  except  from  her  domineerin'  over  Rucker 
more'n  common  for  a  couple  of  days,  she  ceases 
her  demonstrations. 

"Not  but  what  Missis  Rucker  has  some 
rights  on  her  side.  What  with  feedin'  forty 


828        Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

of  us  folks  three  times  a  day,  she's  got  a  lot 
on  her  mind;  an'  to  find  some  sooperfluous 
sport  hangin'  in  her  way,  when  she  goes  to  fill 
her  bucket,  necessar'ly  chafes  her. 

"An'  yet  the  Stranglers  is  up  ag'inst  it,  too. 
Hangin'  a  culprit,  dooly  convicted,  is  a  public 
game ;  an'  the  windmill's  the  only  piece  of  pub 
lic  property  in  sight,  besides  bein'  centrally 
sityooated.  Also,  thar's  nothin'  in  that  corral 
bluff  of  Missis  Rucker's.  The  beam  she  al- 
loodes  to  ain't  big  enough,  an'  is  likewise  too 
low. 

"Boggs,  who  sympathizes  with  Missis 
Rucker,  once  when  we  has  a  boss  thief  we  don't 
need  on  our  hands,  su'gests  we  rope  him  up  to 
the  sign  over  Armstrong's  Noo  York  store. 
But  thar's  rival  trade  interests,  an'  Enright 
fears  it'll  be  took  invidious  as  a  covert  scheme 
for  drawin'  custom  to  Armstrong's  emporium. 

"  'Personally,'  says  Enright,  'I  favors  Dan's 
idee.  But  since  Armstrong's  a  member  of  the 
committee,  you-all  sees  yourselves  that  for  us 
to  go  execootin'  culprits  on  his  sign  that  a-way, 
the  direct  effects  of  which  distinguishes  him  an' 
booms  his  game,  would  shore  breed  jealousies.' 

"  'How  would  it  do,'  asks  Texas,  'if  we  takes 


Spelling  Book  Ben  329 

them  marts  seeriatim,  an'  one  after  another 
yootilizes  all  their  signs?' 

"  'With  doo  deference  to  Texas/  inter jecks 
Tutt,  'this  swingin'  round  from  sign  to  sign, 
with  deeds  of  jestice,  is  a  heap  likely  to  sub 
tract  from  the  deterrent  effects.  It's  better  we 
stick  to  the  windmill,  an'  takes  chances  on  bed- 
din'  them  resentments  of  Missis  Rucker's 
down.' 

"  'That's  all  right  for  you,  Dave,'  retorts 
Boggs;  'you're  a  married  man,  an'  eats  at 
home.  You  wouldn't  feel  so  plumb  gala  about 
quietin'  Missis  Rucker  if  you-all  was  obleeged 
diurnal  to  depend  upon  that  easily  exasper 
ated  matron  for  your  frijoles,  same  as  us. 
Tucson  Jennie's  the  best  cook  in  Cochise 
County,  an',  bein'  her  husband  that  a-way,  you 
ain't  in  no  place  to  jedge.' 

"'Dan's  right,  Dave,'  declar's  Peets;  'sur 
rounded  as  you  be,  you  can't  sense  our  peril, 
that  is,  sense  it  proper.  Admirable  as  Tucson 
Jennie  is  as  wife  an'  mother,  an'  I  says  this  on- 
biased  by  bein'  one  of  two  after  whom  little 
Enright  Peets  is  named,  she's  still  more  ad 
mirable  in  her  role  of  cook.  For  which  reason, 
Dave,  you-all,  when  Missis  Rucker  threatens 


830         Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

us,  ain't  able,  as  Dan  says,  to  rightly  gauge 
said  menaces/ 

"Them  coolinary  compliments  to  Tucson 
Jennie  placates  Tutt.  He's  half  started 
to  bow  his  neck  at  Boggs,  but  they  mollifies 
him. 

*  'Mighty  likely  you're  correct,  Doc,'  he  re 
turns,  his  face  d'arin' ;  'an'  I  begs  Dan's  par 
don  for  some  things  I  was  goin'  to  say.  My 
wife  is  shore  an  exempl'ry  cook,  an'  mebby  I 
ain't  no  fit  jedge.  None  the  less,  you-alTll 
find,  as  to  them  hangin's,  that  this  yere  goin' 
about  from  pillar  to  post  with  'em  is  doo  to 
rob  'em  of  their  moral  side.' 

"  'I  feels  like  Dave,'  observes  Enright,  corn- 
in'  in  on  the  pow-wow.  'Lynchin's,  to  have 
weight  an'  be  a  credit  to  us,  ought  not  to  be 
erratic.  A  lack  of  reg'larity  about  'em  would 
shake  our  standin'  as  a  camp.' 

"Monte  starts  the  business  that  time  when 
Red  Dog  astounds  us  with  its  del'cacy, 
by  comin'  bulgin'  in  one  evenin'  with  word 
about  how  the  leadin'  inflooences  in  Tucson 
is  broke  out  in  a  perfect  deebauch  of  spellin' 
schools. 

"  'An'  I'm  yere  to  remark,'  says  he,  in  his 


Spelling  Book  Ben  331 

conceited,  rum-soaked  way,  'that  these  yere 
contests  contreebootes  a  mighty  meetropol'tan 
atmosphere.' 

"  'Who  orig'nates  spellin'  schools,  anyway?' 
asks  Boggs,  whose  curiosity  is  allers  at  half- 
cock.  'Which  it's  the  first  time  I  hears  of  sech 
things.' 

"  'Spellin'  schools  ain't  nothin'  new,'  Peets 
replies.  'They're  as  common  as  deelirum  tree- 
mons  in  the  East.' 

'Which  they  certainly  be/  corroborates 
Enright.  'Back  along  the  Cumberland,  as  far 
away  as  when  I'm  a  boy,  we  has  'em  constant 
same  as  chills  an'  fever.  We-all  young  bucks 
attends  'em  mighty  loyal,  too,  an'  fights  to  see 
who-all  goes  home  with  the  girls.  When  it 
comes  to  bein'  pop'lar,  spellin'  schools  is  a  even 
break  with  gander  pullin's.' 

"  'Thar's  a  Tucson  kyard  sharp,'  continyoos 
Monte,  'over  to  the  Oriental  s'loon,  who  tells 
me  them  spellin'  schools  is  likewise  all  the 
rage  in  Prescott  an'  Benson  an'  Silver  City. 
That  Lightnin'  Bug  tarrapin'  from  Red  Dog 
is  loafin'  about,  too,  while  the  kyard  sharp's 
talkin',  his  y'ears  a-wavin'  like  a  field  of  clover. 
You  don't  figger  thar's  a  chance  that  Red  Dog 


332         Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

gets  the  notion,  Sam,  an'  takes  to  holdin'  them 
tournaments  of  learnin'  itse'f  ?' 

"What  Monte  says  sets  us  thinkin'.  As  a 
roole  we  don't  pay  much  heed  to  his  observa 
tions,  the  same  bein'  freequent  born  of  alcohol. 
But  that  bluff  about  Red  Dog  sort  o'  scares 
us  up  a  lot.  Good  can  come  out  of  Nazareth, 
an'  even  Monte  might  once  in  a  while  drive 
the  center  as  a  matter  of  luck. 

'  'It  wouldn't  do  us,  Doc,'  says  Enright, 
who's  made  some  oneasy  by  the  thought — 
'which  it  shore  wouldn't  do  us,  as  an  advanced 
camp,  to  let  Red  Dog  beat  us  to  them  spellin' 
schools.' 

'  'I  should  confess  as  much !'  admits  Peets, 
mighty  emphatic.  'Speakin'  from  commoonal 
standp'ints,  it'd  mark  us  as  too  dead  to  skin.' 

"The  sityooation  takes  shape  in  a  resolootion 
to  hold  a  spellin'  school  ourselves,  an'  invite 
Red  Dog  to  stand  in.  Sech  steps  is  calc'lated, 
we  allows,  to  head  off  orig'nal  action  on  the 
Red  Dog  part. 

"  'Let's  challenge  'em  to  spell  ag'in  us,'  says 
Texas.  'That's  shore  to  stop  'em  from  holdin' 
spellin'  schools  of  their  own,  an'  it'll  be  as 
simple  as  tailin'  steers  to  down  'em.  I'll  gam- 


Spelling  Book  Ben  333 

ble  what  odds  you  please  that,  when  it  comes 
to  edyoocation  that  a-way,  we  can  make  them 
Red  Dogs  look  like  a  bunch  of  Digger  In 
juns.' 

"  'Don't  move  your  stack  to  the  center  on 
that  proposition,  Texas,'  observes  Tutt,  'ontil 
you  thoroughly  skins  your  hand.  Edyooca 
tion  ain't  wholly  dead  in  Red  Dog.  Thar's  a 
shorthorn  over  thar,  him  who  keeps  books  for 
the  Wells-Fargo  folks,  who's  edyoocated  to  a 
razor  edge.' 

'  'Him?'  says  Boggs.  'That  murderer  ain't 
no  book  sharp  speshul.  Put  him  ag'in  the 
Doc  or  Col'nel  Sterett,  an'  he  wouldn't  last  as 
long  as  a  quart  of  whiskey  at  a  barn  raisin'. 
Which  he's  a  heap  sight  better  fitted  to  shine 
in  a  gun-play  than  a  spellin'  contest.' 

"  'But  Col'nel  Sterett  ain't  here  none,'  Tutt 
urges,  'havin'  gone  back  to  see  his  folks;  an' 
as  for  the  Doc,  he'll  be  needed  to  put  out  the 
words.  Some  competent  gent's  got  to  go  back 
of  the  box  an'  deal  the  game,  an'  the  Doc's  the 
only  stoodent  in  town  who  answers  that  dee- 
scription.' 

"Armstrong,  who's  happened  along  lookin' 
for  his  little  old  forty  drops,  lets  on  he  knows 


334         Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

a  party  down  in  El  Paso  who  can  spell  any 
word  that  ever  lurks  between  the  covers  of  a 
'dictionary. 

"  'That's  straight,'  Armstrong  declar's. 
"This  yere  El  Paso  savant  can  spell  anything. 
[Which  I've  seen  him  spell  the  hind  shoes  off  a 
shavetail  mule  for  the  drinks.  He's  the  boss 
speller  of  the  Rio  Grande,  so  much  so  they  calls 
him  "Spellin'  Book  Ben."  ' 

'  'Let's  rope  him  up,'  Peets  suggests. 
<Which  them  Red  Dogs  never  will  quit  talkin' 
if  we-all  lets  'em  down  us.' 

"  'Do  you-all  reckon,'  asks  Enright,  appeal- 
in'  to  Armstrong,  'you  could  lure  that  El  Paso 
expert  up  yere  to  partic'pate  in  this  battle  of 
the  intellects?' 

"  'It's  as  easy  as  playin'  seven-up,'  Arm 
strong  replies.  'Which  I'll  write  him  I  needs 
his  aid  to  count  up  the  stock  in  my  store,  an' 
you  bet  he'll  come  a-runnin'.' 

"  'But  s'ppose,'  argues  Tutt,  'these  Red  Dog 
crim'nals  wakes  up  to  it  that  this  yere  Spellin' 
Book  Ben's  a  ringer?' 

"  'In  that  event,'  declar's  Texas,  'we  retorts 
l)y  beltin'  'em  over  the  heads  with  our  guns. 
Be  they,  as  guests,  to  go  dictatin'  terms  to  us?' 


Spelling  Book  Ben  335 

"  'Not  onless  they're  tired  of  life,'  says 
Boggs.  *  While  I  can't  spell  none  to  speak  of, 
seem'  my  Missouri  youth  is  more  or  less 
neglected  by  my  folks,  showin'  some  Red  Dog 
felon  whar  he's  in  wrong  is  duck  soup  to  me. 
In  a  play  like  that  I  sees  my  way  triumphant/ 

"'Shore!'  Texas  insists,  mighty  confident; 
'let  Red  Dog  wag  one  feeble  y'ear,  an'  we  buf 
faloes  it  into  instant  submission.' 

"  'They  can't  make  no  objections  stick,'  En- 
right  observes,  after  thinkin'  things  over. 
'This  Spellin'  Book  Ben  person'll  be  workin' 
for  Armstrong,  an'  that,  as  the  Doc  says, 
makes  him  a  pro  tern,  citizen  of  the  camp. 
As  sech  he's  plumb  legit'mate.  Red  Dog 
couldn't  lower  its  horns  at  him  as  a  hold-out, 
even  if  it  would.' 

"It's  settled,  an'  from  then  on  thar's  nothin' 
talked  of  but  spellin'  schools.  We  issues  our 
deefiance,  Peets  b'arin'  the  same,  an'  Red  Dog 
promptly  calls  our  bluff.  Regyardin'  them 
selves  as  entrenched  in  that  gifted  Wells- 
Fargo  book-keep,  they're  mighty  eager  for  the 
fray.  The  baile  is  set  two  weeks  away,  with 
Peets  to  hold  the  spellin'  book. 

"After  the  time  is  fixed  Monte  comes  squan- 


336         Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

derin'  along  an'  gets  Enright  to  move  it  one 
day  further  on. 

"  'Because,  Sam,'  the  old  sot  urges,  puffin' 
out  his  chest  like  he  amounts  to  somethin', 
'that  partic'lar  evenin'  you  pitches  upon  I'll  be 
at  the  other  end  of  the  route,  an'  I  proposes  to 
get  in  on  this  yere  contest  some  myse'f .' 

'You?'  says  Boggs,  who  overhears  him,  an' 
is  nacherally  astonished  an'  contempchoous  at 
Monte's  nerve.  'Whatever  be  you-all  talk- 
in'  about?  You  can't  spell  none  no  more  than 
me.  The  first  word  the  Doc  names'll  make 
you  look  like  a  pig  at  church.' 

"  'All  the  same' — for  Monte's  been  drink- 
in',  an'  allers  gets  stubborn  in  direct  pro 
portion  to  what  licker  he  tucks  onder  his  belt 
— 'all  the  same,  Dan,  as  to  this  yere  spellin', 
I  proposes  to  ask  for  kyards.  Even  if  I  ain't 
no  Bach'lor  of  Arts,  so  long  as  the  Doc  don't 
fire  nothin'  at  me  worse'n  words  of  one  syl 
lable,  an'  don't  send  'em  along  faster  than  two 
at  a  clatter,  your  Uncle  Monte '11  get  thar,  col 
lars  creakin',  chains  a-rattlin',  with  both  hoofs.' 

"Red  Dog  not  only  accepts  our  challenge, 
but  gets  that  brash  it  offers  to  bet.  Shore,  we 
closes  with  the  prop'sition.  It  ain't  no  part  of 


"ONLESS  OIRLS  IS  BARRED,"  DECLARES  FARO  NELL,  FROM  HER  PERCH  ON  THE  CHAIR 
"I'VE     A    NOTION    TO    TAKE    A    HAND."  p.    337. 


Spelling  Book  Ben  337 

our  civic  economy  to  let  Red  Dog  get  by  with 
anything.  I  reckons,  up  one  side  an'  down  the 
other,  we  puts  up  the  price  of  eight  hundred 
steers.  Texas  and  Boggs  simply  goes  all 
spraddled  out  at  it,  while  Cherokee  calls  down 
one  eboolient  Red  Dog  specyoolator  for  three 
thousand  dollars.  It's  Wolfville  ag'inst  Red 
Dog,  the  roole  to  govern,  'Miss  an'  out!' 

"The  excitement  even  reaches  the  gentler 
sect. 

'Which  onless  girls  is  barred/  declar's 
Nell,  speakin'  from  her  lookout  cha'r  the  sec 
ond  evenin'  before  the  spellin'  school  is  held, 
'I've  a  notion  to  take  a  hand.' 

"  'It  wouldn't  be  a  squar'  deal,  Nellie,'  says 
Texas.  'With  you  in,  everybody 'd  miss  a-pur- 
pose.' 

"  'I  don't  see  why  none,'  says  Nell. 

'  'For  two  reasons ;  first,  because  you're  daz- 
zlin'ly  beautiful;  an',  second,  because  Chero 
kee's  too  good  a  shot.' 

"Shore,'  says  Boggs,  plantin'  a  stack  of 
reds  open  on  the  high  kyard.  'Them  contes 
tants 'd  all  lay  down  to  you,  Nellie.  You  cer 
tainly  don't  reckon  Cherokee'd  set  thar,  him 
all  framed  up  with  a  Colt's  .45,  an'  be  that  on- 


338         Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

gallant  as  to  permit  some  clown  to  spell  you 
down?' 

"Nell  don't  insist,  an'  the  turn  fallin'  'king- 
jjack,'  she  nacherally  moves  Boggs's  reds  to 
the  check-rack. 

"On  the  great  evenin'  Red  Dog  comes  surg- 
in'  in  upon  us,  snortin'  an*  prancin'  an'  pitch- 
in'.  Which  it  certainly  is  a  confident  band  of 
prairie  dogs.  Wolfville's  organized  and  ready, 
Armstrong's  Spellin'  Book  Ben  party  havin' 
come  over  from  El  Paso  three  days  prior. 

"Seein'  how  mighty  se'f-possessed  them  Red 
jDogs  feel,  Boggs  begins  to  grow  nervous. 

'You  don't  reckon,  Dave,'  says  he,  speak- 
in'  to  Tutt,  cthat  them  miscreents  has  got  any 
thing  up  their  sleeve? — any  little  thing  like  a 
ace  buried?' 

Which  they  wouldn't  dare.  Also,  since 
you  brings  the  matter  up,  Dan,  I  now  gives 
notice  that  for  myse'f  I  shall  regyard  success 
on  their  part  as  absoloote  proof  of  perfidy. 
That  settled,  I  sacks  that  hamlet  of  Red  Dog, 
an'  plows  an'  sows  its  deboshed  site  with 
salt.' 

"  That's  the  talk!'  says  Boggs.  'Let  'em  win 
once,  an'  you  an'  me,  Dave,'ll  caper  over  in  our 


Spelling  Book  Ben  339 

individyooal  capac'ty,  an'  lay  waste  that  Red 
Dog  hamlet  if  it's  the  last  act  of  our  lives.' 

"The  spellin'  school  is  schedjooled  for  the 
r'ar  wareroom  of  the  Noo  York  store,  whar 
the  Stranglers  convenes.  All  lied  Dog  is  thar, 
dressed  up  like  a  hoss,  their  Wells-Fargo  book- 
keep  in  their  exultant  midst.  Enright  calls 
the  meetin'  to  order  with  the  butt  of  his  six- 
shooter;  our  old  warchief  allers  uses  his  gun 
as  a  gavel  that  a-way,  as  lookin'  more  offishul. 
Also,  since  the  dooty  of  a  presidin'  officer  is  to 
preserve  order,  it's  in  line  to  begin  with  a  show 
— not  too  ondecorous — of  force. 

"Enright  states  the  object  of  the  gathering 
an'  Peets,  spellin'  book  in  hand,  swings  into 
the  saddle  an'  in  a  moment  is  off  at  a  road  gait. 
The  words  falls  thick  an'  sharp,  like  the  crack- 
in'  of  a  rifle.  Which  they  shore  does  thin  out 
them  contestants  plenty  rapid!  Boggs  goes 
down  before  'Theery,'  spellin'  it  with  a  extra 
'e.'  Tutt  lasts  through  three  fires,  but  is  sent 
curlin'  like  a  shot  jack-rabbit  by  'Epitaph,' 
which  he  ends  with  a  'f .'  Texas  dies  on  'Defi 
nite,'  bein'  misled  by  what  happens  to  Tutt 
into  introdoocin'  tharin  a  sooperfluous  'ph.' 

'  'I  ain't  none  astonished,'  Texas  says  sadly, 


340        Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

when  Peets  informs  him  that  he's  in  the  dis- 
kyard;  'since  ever  my  former  Laredo  wife  ac 
quires  that  divorce,  together  with  al'mony  an* 
the  reestoration  of  her  maiden  name,  the  same 
bein'  Suggs,  I  ain't  been  the  onerrin'  speller 
I  once  was.' 

"Cherokee  has  luck,  an'  lasts  for  quite  a 
time.  It's  the  'leventh  word  that  fetches  him. 
An'  at  that  thar's  a  heap  to  be  said  on  the  side 
of  Cherokee. 

"The  word's  'Capitol,'  as  Peets  lets  it  fly. 

"  'C-a-p-i-t-a-l,'  spells  Cherokee. 

"  'Dead  bird!'  Peets  says,  plenty  senten 
tious. 

"  'Whatever  kind  o'  capital?' 

"  'Capitol  of  a  State.' 

"  'Then  I  misonderstands  you.  Which  I 
takes  it  you're  referrin'  to  a  bankroll.' 

"The  Doc,  however,  is  obdoorate,  an'  Chero 
kee  shoves  back. 

"  'I  think,'  says  Nell,  whisperin'  to  Missis 
Rucker  an'  Tucson  Jennie,  who,  with  little  En- 
right  Peets,  is  off  to  one  side — 'I  think  the 
Doc's  a  mighty  sight  too  contracted  in  his 
scope.' 

"Monte  falls  by  the  wayside  on  'Scenery,' 


Spelling  Book  Ben 341 

an'  is  that  preepost'rous  he  starts  to  give  Peets 
an  argyooment.    Monte  spells  it  'Seenry.' 

"  'Whar  do  you-all  get  your  licence,  Doc,' 
he  demands,  when  Peets  tells  him  how  it's 
spelled,  'to  jam  in  that  misfit  "c"?  Me  havin' 
drove  stage  for  twenty  years,  I've  seen  as 
much  scenery  as  any  gent  present,  an'  should 
shore  know  how  it's  spelled.  Scenery  is  what 
you  sees.  "S-e-e"  spells  see;  an'  tharfore  I 
contends  that  "S-e-e-n-r-y"  spells  scenery. 
That  "c"  you  springs  on  us,  Doc,  is  a  solecism, 
an'  as  much  out  of  place  as  a  cow  on  a  front 
porch.' 

"Enright  raps  Monte  down.  "Scenery"  is 
spelled  any  way  which  the  Doc  says,'  declar's 
Enright,  his  eye  some  severe,  'an'  I  trusts  no 
gent'll  compel  the  cha'r  to  take  measures.' 

'  'Say  no  more,'  responds  Monte,  plenty 
humble  and  prompt.  'What  I  urges  is  only 
to  'licit  information.  I  still  thinks,  however, 
that  onder  the  gen'ral  wellfare  clause  of  the 
constitootion,  an'  with  an  orifenced  alphabet 
to  pick  an'  choose  from,  a  sport  ought  to  have 
the  inalienable  right  to  spell  things  the  way  he 
likes.  Otherwise,  whatever  is  the  use  of  callin' 
this  a  free  country?  If  a  gent's  to  be  com- 


342         Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

pelled  to  spell  scenery  with  a  fool  "c,"  I  asks 
you  why  was  Yorktown  an'  wharfore  Bunker 
Hill?' 

"Monte,  havin'  thus  onloaded,  reetires  to  the 
r'ar,  coverin'  his  chagrin  by  hummin'  a  stanzy 
or  two  from  the  well-known  ditty,  'Bill,  of 
Smoky  Hill.' 

Bill  driv  three  spans  of  bosses, 

An*  when  Injuns  hove  in  sight, 
He'd  holler  "Fellers,  give  'em  hell! 

I  ain't  got  time  to  fight." 

But  he  chanced  one  time  to  run  ag'in 

A  bullet  made  of  lead, 
An'  when  they  brung  Bill  into  town, 

A  bar'l  of  tears  was  shed. 

"While  Texas  an'  Boggs  an'  Tutt  an'  Cher 
okee  an'  Monte  an'  the  rest  of  the  Wolf- 
ville  outfit  is  fallin'  like  November's  leaves, 
them  Red  Dog  bandits  is  fadin'  jest  as  fast. 
If  anything,  they're  fadin'  faster.  They're 
too  p'lite  or  too  proodent  to  cavil  at  the  pres 
ence  of  Spellin'  Book  Ben,  an'  by  third  drink 
time  after  we  starts  thar's  no  gents  left  stand- 
in'  except  that  Wells-Fargo  book-keep  sharp 
for  Red  Dog,  an'  Spellin'  Book  for  us.  It's 


Spelling  Book  Ben  343 

give  an'  take  between  'em  for  mebby  one  hun 
dred  words,  an'  neither  so  much  as  stubs  his 
orthographic  toe. 

"The  evenin'  w'ars  into  what  them  poets 
calls  the  'small  hours.'  Missis  Rucker  is  wear 
ily  battin'  her  eyes,  while  little  Enright  Peets 
is  snorin'  guinea-pig  snores  in  Tucson  Jennie's 
lap. 

"Thar  comes  a  pause  for  Black  Jack  to  pass 
the  refreshments,  an'  Nell  takes  advantage  of 
the  lull. 

'  'Hopin'  no  one,'  says  Nell,  'will  think  us 
onp'lite,  we  ladies  will  retire.  Jedgin'  from 
the  way  little  Enright  Peets  sounds,  not 
to  mention  how  I  feels  or  Missis  Rucker 
looks,  it's  time  we  weaker  vessels  hits  the 
blankets.' 

'Yes,  indeed,'  adds  Missis  Rucker,  smoth 
ering  a  yawn  with  her  hand;  'I'd  certainly  ad 
mire  to  stay  a  whole  lot,  but  rememberin'  the 
hour  I  thinks,  like  Nellie,  that  we-all  ladies 
better  pull  our  freight.' 

"Enright  settin'  the  example,  we  gents 
stands  up  while  the  ladies  withdraws,  little  En- 
right  Peets  bein'  drug  along  between  Nell  an' 
Tucson  Jennie  plumb  inert. 


344         Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

"Peets  resoomes  his  word-callin',  an'  them 
two  heroes  spells  on  for  a  hour  longer. 

"At  last,  however,  the  Wells-Fargo  book- 
keep  sharp  commences  to  turn  shaky ;  the  pres 
sure's  beginnin'  to  tell.  As  for  Spellin'  Book 
Ben,  he's  as  steady  as  a  church. 

"  'By  the  grave  of  Moses,  Dan,'  Tutt  whis 
pers  to  Boggs,  'that  Red  Dog  imposter's  on 
the  brink  of  a  stampede.' 

"Peets  gives  out  'colander';  it's  Spellin' 
Book  Ben's  turn.  As  he  starts  to  whirl  his  ver 
bal  loop  the  Red  Dog  adept  whips  out  his  gun, 
an'  jams  it  ag'inst  Spellin'  Book's  ribs. 

"  'Spell  it  with  a  "u,"  '  says  the  Red  Dog 
sharp,  'or  I'll  shore  send  you  shoutin'  home  to 
heaven!  Which  I've  stood  all  of  your  dad- 
binged  eryoodition  my  nerves  is  calk'lated  to 
endoore.' 

"Spellin'  Book  Ben's  game,  game  as  yaller 
wasps.  With  the  cold  muzzle  of  that  book- 
keep  murderer's  hint  to  the  onconverted  push- 
in'  into  his  side,  he  never  flickers. 

"  'C-o,'  he  begins. 

"But  that's  as  far  as  he  ever  gets.  Thar's 
a  dull  roar,  an'  pore  Spellin'  Book  comes  slid- 
in'  from  his  learned  perch.  It's  done  so  quick 


Spelling  Book  Ben  345 

that  not  even  Jack  Moore  has  time  to  hedge  a 
stack  down  the  other  way. 

"  'It's  too  late,  Doc/  says  pore  Spellin' 
Book,  as  Peets  stoops  over  him;  'he  gets  me  all 
right.'  Then  he  rolls  a  gen'ral  eye  on  all. 
'Gents,'  he  says,  'don't  send  my  remainder  back 
to  El  Paso.  Boot  Hill  does  me.' 

"Them's  Spellin'  Book's  last  words,  an'  they 
does  him  proud. 

"It's  the  Lightnin'  Bug  who  grabs  the  mur- 
derin'  book-keep  sharp,  an'  takes  his  gun 
away.  Then  he  swings  him  before  Enright. 

'  'He's  your  pris'ner,'  says  the  Red  Dog 
chief,  actin'  for  his  outfit,  an'  Enright  bows  his 
acknowledgments. 

"Son,  it's  a  lesson  to  see  them  two  leaders 
of  men.  Enright  never  shows  up  nobler, 
an'  you  can  wager  your  bottom  peso  that  the 
Red  Dog  chief  is  a  long  shot  from  bein'  a 
slouch. 

"Jack  Moore  takes  the  Wells-Fargo  book- 
keep  homicide  in  charge,  while  Enright,  who 
declar's  that  jestice  to  be  effectyooal  must  be 
swift,  says  that  onless  shown  reason  he'll  con 
vene  the  committee  at  once.  He  adds,  like 
wise,  that  it'll  be  kindly  took  if  the  Red  Dog 


346        Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

chief,  an'  what  members  of  his  triboonal  is 
present,  will  b'ar  their  part. 

"In  all  p'liteness,  the  Red  Dog  chief  dee- 
clines. 

'This  is  your  joorisdiction,'  he  says,  'an' 
we  Red  Dogs  can  only  return  the  compliment 
which  your  su'gestion  implies  by  asshorin'  you- 
all  of  our  advance  confidence  in  the  rectitoode 
of  what  jedgments  you  inflicts.' 

1 ' Speak  your  piece,'  says  Enright  to  the 
Wells-Fargo  book-keep  culprit,  when  stood  up 
before  him  by  Moore.  'Whatever  prompts 
you  to  blow  out  this  Spellin'  Book  Ben's  can 
dle  that  a-way?' 

"  'Let  me  say,'  exclaims  the  Wells-Fargo 
book-keep  murderer,  an'  his  manner  is  some 
torrid,  'that  I  has  five  hundred  dollars  bet  on 
this  yere  contest ' 

"  'That  is  a  question,'  interrupts  Enright, 
suave  but  plenty  firm,  'which  will  doubtless 
prove  interestin'  to  your  execooter.  This, 
however,  is  not  the  time  nor  place.  I  asks 
ag'in,  whatever  is  your  reason  for  shovin'  this 
yere  expert  in  orthography  from  shore?' 

'"Do  you-all  think,'  returns  the  Wells- 
Fargo  murderer,  'that  I'll  abide  to  see  a  ob- 


Spelling  Book  Ben  347 

seoority  like  him  outspell  me? — me,  who's  the 
leadin'  speller  of  eight  States  and  two  terri 
tories,  an'  never  scores  less  than  sixty-five 
out  of  a  poss'ble  fifty?  Which  I'd  sooner 
die/ 

"  'So  you'd  sooner  die?'  repeats  Enright,  as 
cold  an'  dark  an'  short  as  a  November  day. 
'Well,  most  folks  don't  get  their  sooners  in 
this  world,  but  it  looks  a  heap  like  you  will!' 
Turnin'  to  Moore,  he  goes  on:  'Our  friends 
from  Red  Dog'll  hold  your  captive,  Jack, 
while  you-all  goes  rummagin'  over  to  the  cor 
ral  an'  gets  a  rope,  the  committee  havin'  come 
onprovided.' 

"Moore  gives  the  Wells-Fargo  homicide  to 
the  Red  Dog  chief,  an'  tharupon,  we  Stranglers 
bein'  ready  to  go  into  execyootive  session,  all 
hands  except  Enright  an'  the  committee  steps 
outside.  We're  in  confab  mebby  it's  ten  min 
utes,  an'  Enright  has  jest  approved  a  yoonani- 
mous  vote  in  favor  of  hangin',  when  thar's  a 
modest  tap  at  the  door. 

"It's  the  Lightnin'  Bug. 

'  'It  ain't,'  he  says,  when  we  asks  his  mis 
sion,  'that  we-all  aims  to  disturb  your  deelib'- 
rations  none,  gents,  but  the  chief  d  like  to 


348        Faro  Nell  and  Her  Friends 

borry  Doc  Peets  for  five  minutes  to  say  a  few 
words  over  the  corpse.' 

"Upon  this  yere  hint  we-all  gambols  forth, 
an'  finds  what's  left  of  the  Wells-Fargo  book- 
keep  murderer  adornin'  the  windmill.  Thar's 
whar  their  del'cacy  comes  in;  that's  how  them 
Red  Dogs  saves  us  from  a  disagree'ble  dooty. 

"We  plants  Spellin'  Book  Ben  on  Boot  Hill 
as  per  that  sufferer's  last  request,  an'  Red  Dog 
graces  the  obsequies  to  a  man.  Thar  Spellin' 
Book  lies  to-day ;  an'  the  story  of  his  ontoward 
takin'  off,  as  told  on  that  tombstone  conj'intly 
erected  as  aforesaid  by  Wolfville  an'  Red  Dog, 
is  anyooally  read  by  scores  of  devotees  of 
learnin'  who,  bar'-headed  an'  mournful,  comes 
as  pilgrims  to  his  grave." 


THE   END. 


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heroine  is  a  most  unusual  woman  and  her  love-story  reaches  a 

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Brand  Blotters 

A  story  of  the  Cattle  Range.  This  story  brings  out  the  turbid 
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charming  love  interest  running  through  its  320  pages.  , 

12mo,  Cloth,  Illustrated,  Jacket  in  Colors,  $1.25  net 

*  Mavericks" 

A  tale  of  the  western  frontier,  where  the  "  rustler, "  whose 
depredations  are  so  keenly  resented  by  the  early  settlers  of  the 
range,  abounds.  One  of  the  sweetest  love  stories  ever  told. 

12mo,  Cloth,  Illustrated.    Popular  Edition,  SO  cents 

A  Texas  Ranger 

How  a  member  of  the  most  dauntless  border  police  force 
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after  a  series  of  thrilling  adventures,  followed  a  fugitive  to 
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Wyoming 

In  this  vivid  story  of  the  outdoor  West  the  author  has  cap 
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Ridgway  of  Montana 

The  scene  is  laid  in  the  mining  centers  'of  Montana,  where 
politics  and  mining  industries  are  the  religion  of  the  country. 
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Bucky  O'Connor 

Every  chapter  teems  with  wholesome,  stirring  adventures,  re 
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12mo,  Cloth,  Illustrated.    Popular  Edition,  50  cents 


Books  by  Edward   Marshall 

BAT— An  Idyl  of  New  York 

"The  heroine  has  all  the  charm  of  Thackeray's  Marchioness  in 
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— Sacramento  Union.  "  It  is  as  wholesome  and  fresh  as  the  breath 
of  springtime." — New^Orleans  Picayune.  i2mo,  doth.  Illustrated. 
$1.00  net. 

THE  MIDDLE  WALL 

The  Albany  Times-Union  says  of  this  story  of  the  South  African 
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BOOKS  NOVELIZED  FROM  GREAT  PLAYS 

THE  MASTER  OF  THE  HOUSE 

From  the  successful  play  of  EDGAR  JAMES.  Embodying  a  won-; 
derful  message  to  both  husbands  and  wives,  it  tells  how  a  deter-! 
mined  man,  of  dominating  personality  and  iron  will,  leaves  a  faithful 
wife  for  another  woman.  i2mo,  cloth.  Illustrated  from  scenes  in 
the  play.  Net  $1.25. 

THE  WRITING  ON  THE  WALL 

The  Rocky  Mountain  News :  "  This  novelization  of  OLGA  NETHER-1 
SOLE'S  play  tells  of  Trinity  Church  and  its  tenements.  It  is  a; 
powerful,  vital  novel."  i2mo,  cloth.  Illustrated.  50  cents. 

THE  OLD  FLUTE  PLAYER 

Based  on  CHARLES  T.  DAZEY'S  play,  this  story  won  the 
friendship  of  the  country  very  quickly.  The  Albany  Times-Union: 
1 '  Charming  enough  to  become  a  classic.' '  1 2mo,  doth.  Illustrated.* 
50  cents. 

THE  FAMILY 

Of  this  book  (founded  on  the  play  by  ROBERT  HOBART  DAVIS)/ 
The  Portland  (Oregon)  Journal  said:  "No thing  more  powerful  has 
recently  been  put  between  the  covers  of  a  book."  12 mo,  doth. 
Illustrated.  50  cents. 

THE  SPENDTHRIFT 

The  Logansport  (Ind.)  Journal :  "A  tense  story,  founded  on  PORTER 
EMERSON  BROWNE'S  play,  is  full  of  tremendous  situations, 
and  preaches  a  great  sermon."  ICTUV  cloth  bound,  with  six  illus 
trations  from  scenes  in  the  play.  50  cents. 

IN  OLD  KENTUCKY 

Based  upon  CHARLES  T.  DAZEY'S  well-known  play,  which  has 
been  listened  to  with  thrilling  interest  by  over  seven  million  people. 
"A  new  and  powerful  novel,  fascinating  in  its  rapid  action.  Its 
touching  story  is  told  more  elaborately  and  even  more  absorbingly 
than  it  was  upon  the  stage."— Nashville  American.  i2mo,'doth. 
Illustrated.  50  cents. 


By  AK1MUK      lUKINBUJW 

The  Talker  ju»t  l»ued 

An  impeachment  of  the  attitude  of  many  women  with  regard  to  the 

sacredness  of  the  marriage  tie — From  the  play  of 

MARION  FAIRFAX. 

A  poignantly  affecting  story,  deeply  arresting  in  its  significance. 

Kindling  4th  Large  Edition 

A  story  of  mother-love  in  the  tenements— From  the  Play  of 
CHARLES  KEN  YON. 

"A  dramatic  and  interesting  story  from  the  powerful  and  unusual  piny"— Buffalo  Express 

Bought    and    Paid    For  5th  Large  Edition 

A  tremendous   arraignment  of  the  mercenary   marriage— From  the  play  of 
GEORGE  BROADHURST. 

"The  story  is  intensely  human  in  its  serious  side  and  delightfully  amusing  in  its  lighter 
phases."  — Boston  Globe. 

Fhe    Gamblers  85th  Thousand 

A  dramatic  story  of  American  life,  from  the  wonderful  play  of  Charles  Klein. 

"A  powerful  indictment  of  the  methods  of  modern  finance." — Philadelphia  Press. 

The   Easiest   Way  6th  Large  Edition 

A  vivid  story  of  metropolitan  life  from  Eugene  Walter's  thrilling  play. 

'The  easiest  way  is  in  reality  the  hardest  way." — Boston  Timu 

John    Marsh's   Millions  6th  Large  Edition 

The  struggle  of  a  young  girl,  heiress  to  millions. 

"Has  many  thrilling  dramatic  situations."— St.  Louis  Pott-Dispatch. 

The  Third  Degree  ?oth  Thousand 

A  brilliant  novelization  of  Charles  Klein's  great  play. 

"A  strongly-painted  picture  of  certain  conditions  in  the  administration  of  law  and 
justice."  —Philadelphia  Record. 


By  Right  of  Conquest  looth  Thousand 

A  thrilling  story  of  shipwreck  upon  a  deserted  island. 

"A  sensational  situation  handled  with  delicacy  and  vigor." — Boston  Transcript 

The  End  of  the  Game  75th  Thousand 

A  love  story  dealing  with  the  perils  of  great  wealth. 

"A  thoroughly  wholesome  book,  with  action  in  the  drama  and  real  human  interest." 

—Literarv  DigesL 

The   Profligate  6Oth  Thousand 

A  thrilling  story  of  love,  mystery  and  adventure. 
*The  moral  tone  of  the  story  is  excellent."  — Baltimore  San. 

The  Lion  and  the  Mouse  200th  Thousand 

A  brilliant  novelization  of  Charles  Klein's  wonderful  play. 

"As  fucmatina  as  Mr.  Klein  <  play."— Boston  Transcript. 


ATZ 


AN  INITIAL  FINE  OF  25  CENTS 


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THIS  BOOK  ON  THE  DATE  OUE.  THE  PENALTY 
WILL  INCREASE  TO  SO  CENTS  ON  THE  FOURTH 
DAY  AND  TO  S!  CO  ON  THE  SEVENTH  DAY 


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THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


